Christmas Presents
by truephan
Summary: After PP. One Shot. OCs. All I want for Christmas is the special magic it brings—and some jolly ghostly mischief.


**A/N: *squeals* MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE! I love this holiday! Everyone is so nice; family and friends gather in love; and we give presents to each other in honor of the birthday of the Christ Child. But people forget that those who celebrate this time of year also extend those wonderful feelings to people of **_**every creed**_**. What a wonderful time for humanity! With that said, I've finally gotten some inspiration to write a Danny Phantom Christmas story. I have to thank my friend, sapphireswimming, who gave me the inspiration. And, oh, if you haven't read my other stories, you might be slightly loss at some of the references to them. And that's because I try to keep my stories in chronological order of the events happening in the characters' lives. Now for those of you who have to point out that I'm still updating my current story, Gold Tested in Fire, just let the Christmas magic suspend belief on this one shot, okay? *Smiles sheepishly* In any case, don't worry because the references really don't interfere too much. Still, I wouldn't mind if you read my other stories, either (hee-hee!) Ahem. Back to this story. It's a rather long one shot, but I hope you enjoy it anyways! Enjoy your Christmastime!**

* * *

Christmas Presents

"Let us get something straight right away," Skulker firmly said to the pointy-eared, fanged ghost sitting on a wooden chair in the middle of the room.

"You have no say in the matter until you are spoken to again, understand?" the cyborg ghost added.

The black-haired, goateed ghost gritted his teeth yet nodded in agreement. At the moment he didn't dare cross the fiery-blue-haired ghost.

Skulker smirked in satisfaction before he turned to the small group of ghosts who were also in the room and were gathered around the ghost to whom Skulker had just addressed. Up to now, the group had been quietly listening.

The robotic ghost cleared his throat and said almost smugly, "Good. Now that we settled that, the discussion is open. And—"

Ember immediately cut him off. She said with a pout, "I say he doesn't deserve a chance! He broke one of our most solemn oaths!"

"Everyone deserves another chance, Ember," Sydney Poindexter quietly yet firmly countered.

"And I want him to be our friend!" Klemper squealed.

His friend, Chilly-Billy the penguin, who was perched on the giant yet friendly ghost's shoulder, squawked in agreement.

One of Ember's eyes twitched just before she rasped out in challenge, "Oh, yeah? As if he deserves any of that! Geez, it took him long enough to get around to asking to make it up to all of us!"

"That's because he was locked up in Walker's prison for over two years," Youngblood pointed out.

"Only two years?" Technus gasped. "That's unheard of!"

The master of all technology peered in awe at the male ghost still sitting quietly yet tensely in the chair in the midst of the other floating or standing ghosts.

The fanged ghost's skin turned a lighter shade of grey but he still managed to smile apologetically at the fact that he was let out from the prison so soon—even when those two years seemed like two millennium at the time. Still, he hoped they didn't misinterpret his nervous smile and make things worse for him.

"Walker's never been that generous before," Bertrand whined before pointing to the only seated ghost in the crowd. "There has to be some kind of trick he's trying to pull!"

Sydney Poindexter boldly stepped closer to Spectra's sidekick and declared, "There's no trick! He got off for good behavior for doing what Walker wanted in return."

Already bored, Spectra begged the question with an irritated sigh, "Which was?"

"I don't care what his excuse is," Ember butted in.

"Yeah, me, either," Youngblood chimed in.

Several of the other ghosts, including Johnny 13 and Kitty, either nodded or mumbled their agreement or disagreement of the conversation so far.

Skulker cleared his throat more forcefully and the rumblings instantly stopped. Once it was quiet again, he said, "Even though the points brought up so far are valid, I think we should allow him to come back into the fold—for the sake of the season, of course."

"Yay! Christmas is coming!" Klemper suddenly chirped while clapping and jumping up-and-down giddily.

Chilly-Billy happily flapped his wings as he bounced up-and-down on his large friend's shoulder.

"I agree with Skulker," Sydney Poindexter boldly announced.

"Me, too!" Technus echoed. Then pointing to the _still_ only seated ghost in the room he chuckled, "Besides, he even looks like an elf."

"An _evil_ elf, you mean," Ember grumbled before folding her arms in front of her in dissatisfaction.

"That's not nice!" Sydney Poindexter replied with a frown.

"So, okay, it's naughty," Ember countered with a mischievous smile. "So, I'll rephrase that: he looks like an evil elf—_with glasses_!"

The rock diva suddenly laughed and a few others couldn't help themselves and snickered as well.

Sydney Poindexter pushed up his own black-and-round-framed glasses and objected, "Hey, what's wrong with glasses?"

"Nothin' if they make you see how stupid this whole thing is!" the rocker ghost girl countered. "He doesn't deserve any breaks!"

"I agree!" cheered Bertrand.

"I don't!" Kitty chimed in.

Spectra rolled her eyes and wearily said, "Oh, brother!"

Once again, pros and cons murmuring erupted within most of the group—well, except for the ghost sitting right smack in the middle of the rapidly heating up conversation.

Sydney Poindexter grabbed another chair that was close by and jumped on top of it before shouting above the noise, "I still think he deserves a chance!"

"Why, you little pipsqueak!" Ember growled in threat. "If you think—"

But she didn't get to finish that sentence.

"Enough!" Skulker suddenly bellowed.

The fanged, bespectacled ghost still sitting in the wooden chair jumped and barely managed to squelch a cry of fear. He nervously readjusted his purple-framed glasses and steeled himself.

However, complete silence immediately drifted upon the small crowd.

Skulker stepped forward and firmly said, "Remember we still have Christmas coming! If you cannot contain yourselves, I will cease with this meeting!"

No one made any objections to that.

Satisfied with their 'answer', the cyborg ghost continued, "Though I do agree that Ghostwriter doesn't deserve our pardon in breaking our truce at Christmas two years ago, he has done some time in Walker's prison."

When Skulker spied that Ember was about to object, he quickly added, "Even though it wasn't enough!"

"But it was enough, Skulker," Sydney Poindexter insisted. "He only got out because he wrote two novels starring Walker as the ingenious villain and hero!"

All the ghosts except Skulker and Ghostwriter gasped at the horrible thought.

"And since Walker only has an old typewriter, Ghostwriter could only type one letter at a time," Sydney concluded.

Most of the ghosts sighed with slight empathy.

Johnny 13, however, hadn't heard that last remark and was still thinking of what the fifties' ghost had first said before he asked in confusion, "How is it possible for you to be _both_ the villain and the hero?"

Youngblood shrugged and all of the ghosts reflexively looked at Ghostwriter.

The grey-skinned ghost wrapped his grey scarf more tightly around his neck and sighed at the painful memory before he sadly nodded in affirmation. If they only knew how much that pained him to write such trite…But that had been the condition of his early release.

Skulker frowned and continued, "As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted…"

He paused just long enough to glare at Sydney Poindexter. The cyborg ghost's look was enough to stifle the fifties' ghost.

Skulker added, "And _before_ I get rudely interrupted…" This time he steeled his glower on Ember when it looked as if she was about to put her two-cents' worth in. Just because they were currently on the 'off side' with their 'off-and-on- again' relationship didn't mean he still had to give her…privileges.

Ember closed her mouth and frowned disapprovingly. But she definitely got Skulker's point and she didn't say anything.

Skulker smirked in slight triumphant before he continued, "In light of the season—and because Ghostwriter was brave enough to come to me right after he was released from Walker's prison, and has agreed to our terms in order to get our pardon _and_ has promised to adhere to the truce forevermore—I have a proposal to make that I think will satisfied all parties. I say that we allow him to return to his lair in peace and we pardon his breaking our Christmas truce only—"

"Only if he can prove he's trustworthy," Ember blurted out, finally unable to remain silent.

"I was getting to that!" Skulker yelled back, irritated.

Ember smiled mischievously and remarked, "Just checking, lollipop!"

Skulker humphed. If she thought she could butter him up…But then he threw that thought away and refocused. "Only if he can prove he's trustworthy…."

He spied Ember's smiling triumphantly in the corner of his eye and gritted his teeth before he continued, "And he will do that by passing a test of our choosing."

Soft questioning remarks of what that test would be broke out but they immediately evaporated when Skulker scowled.

Ghostwriter swallowed worriedly. He hoped it wouldn't be unreasonable.

In the meantime, Skulker chuckled to himself. What he was thinking of proposing would both prove Ghostwriter's sincerity and be payback to a certain ghost. In fact, the payback could even be considered a practical joke. After all, he could only propose something nice and not naughty because of the season.

Everyone began to squirm when Skulker had suddenly silenced. But they all jumped when he finally spoke again.

"I suggest that…." He paused for the effect and was rewarded with the reaction for which he was expecting.

All eyes were glued to him in anticipation, especially Ghostwriter's.

"That Ghostwriter do something especially nice for…"

All the ghosts could hear a pin drop…

"Danny Phantom!"

Everyone gasped, but not as loudly as Ghostwriter! He had no idea that he would have to stoop to…After all, the half-ghost had been responsible for his current grief, including….

But his thoughts were interrupted by Skulker.

"The floor is open for more suggestions."

At first, no one responded. However, the more the others—except Ghostwriter, of course— thought about it, the more they liked it. They finally smiled in agreement with each other and Skulker.

Skulker in turn smiled triumphantly back and turned to the seated purple-coated ghost.

"Well, Ghostwriter," the robotic ghost slowly began, "Now it's your turn. Do you accept the test and thereby being able to return to your lair for Christmas and the twelve days of Christmas after you've completed your test?"

Ghostwriter glanced briefly at the others. He didn't remember that little detail about the Christmas truce. He thought the truce was only for Christmas Day. Still, he objected, "Since when did the truce begin _before _Christmas?"

"It doesn't, dude," Youngblood piped in.

"Yeah. It used to just be for Christmas Day and that was all," Johnny 13 added.

"But that was before our last New Year's party," Spectra chimed in. "That punch was exceptional and we all agreed right then and there to include the twelve days of Christmas as part of the deal. And we all know that a ghost's word is his bond during holidays and their seasons."

Bertrand then said, "It is traditional anyways."

"To celebrate shopping before Christmas?" Ghostwriter asked incredulously.

"No, Buster Brown," Sydney Poindexter was quick to answer. "That's what those shameless merchants want you to believe and so try to woo you with their sales."

"Yeah, I still haven't taken advantage of all those hip sales," Technus interjected.

The fifties' ghosts frowned and dryly said, "I rest my case."

Technus scowled, but before he could say anything, Skulker added, "The twelve days of Christmas come _after_ Christmas. For generations humans and ghosts celebrated Christmas for twelve days, which ended on the traditional holiday called Epiphany. But humans have forgotten all of that. And for a while, we ghosts did, too. Until we decided last New Year's to start the tradition again and therefore included it in the truce."

"Thanks to the punch," Spectra said in aside to Bertrand.

Skulker heard that remark but chose to ignore it and instead said, "So, if you accept our terms, Ghostwriter, you have until Christmas to fulfill it. And then that means you'll regain our respect, be allowed to be part of the group again and attend the upcoming Christmas party. He stooped closer to the purple-and-grey clad ghost and whispered a slight aside, "Just think of all those more worthwhile novels you could write in all that time with a real peace of mind."

Ghostwriter paused for several moments. The offer was tempting. Still, he didn't want to have to deal with the ghost who had caused all of his grief: Danny Phantom. And neither did he want to extend that same truce to the Ghost Boy after all of his suffering. In fact, he still had that major bone to pick with the half-ghost—something that the other ghosts here didn't consider when it came to this 'proposition'.

Yet, they were right in some ways since the season was very near and he should get in the spirit of it—or else think of a way out of this…Suddenly the writer ghost smiled when several ideas for just that sprung up.

"Even though the proposition is good," he slyly began, "How can it be valid when we should not mix celebrations and deals? After all, you have to admit that the new truce really should be because of the real reason for Christmas; you know, because of the ba—

"We all know about all of that!" Skulker defensively said. "And we haven't forgotten." He then smiled wickedly and added, "But if that is such a big deal for you, then maybe we should ask Walker to keep you until _after_ the twelfth day of Christmas."

"Or, in the meantime, make you miserable _before_ Christmas —even if it isn't for long," Youngblood began with a mischievous smile before pulling out a slingshot.

"And there's always the thirteenth 'bad luck' day of Christmas," Kitty added half-seriously, winking at Johnny 13.

The biker ghost in turn smiled wickedly and slyly said, "Yeah, and it's on a Friday this year!"

Johnny's shadow ghost friend chuckled in anticipation.

"And just imagine how that will ruin your entire time between now and Christmas and then after Christmas!" Ember said with evil delight in her voice.

Skulker smirked. They were doing a good job mounting the pressure upon the literary ghost.

Ghostwriter could tell that it would please the ghost rock diva to no end to make his after-life miserable from now until….He gulped in dread and hurriedly replied, "No, no! It's not a big deal! It's just that, how can I do anything especially nice to the squirt, I mean, the Ghost Boy, —"

Sydney Poindexter suddenly interjected, "Technically he's getting to be more of a young man than a boy!"

"Whatever!" Ember piped in, her voice laden with irritation and impatience. "Get on with it. What's his decision, Skulker?"

Before the robot ghost could reply, Ghostwriter jumped right in and pleaded, "I want to give you a decision! But how can I when my keyboard was destroyed two—"

Suddenly, Technus flew over and waved his electrical wand. Immediately, Ghostwriter's personal keyboard appeared around the writer ghost just as Technus said with pride, "And fixed just for the occasion!"

Ghostwriter's green eyes widened in both delight and awe. His keyboard! Reflexively he touched a key and his face fell. He could instantly tell that the keyboard had not been restored to mint condition. Some of the keyboards were stuck permanently down. Others had the wrong letter or number on it. And it was now shaped more in an oval than a perfect circle. Still, a new 'out' angle just presented itself to him.

"But how can you expect me to agree when I can tell just from touching my altered keyboard that I can't write in rhyme anymore?" he asked.

"Quit stalling!" Skulker growled in threat this time. And he just as quickly stepped forward aggressively, his hand going to the blade resting on his back.

Ghostwriter instantly pulled his hands off of his imperfect keyboard and threw them up in surrender, fearing what the hunter might do.

Meanwhile, Technus could tell that Skulker was on the edge of losing his patience. He wasn't about to let the Ghost Hunter accidentally destroy the keyboard he had just fixed! He reacted right away and made the keyboard disappear right when Skulker had moved closer to the literature ghost.

The writer ghost actually pressed more firmly into the back of his wooden chair as Skulker's hot breath emphatically poured on him. "If you don't agree on the terms like you told me you would, Ghostwriter, there will be heck to pay from now on, and especially on the thirteenth day of Christmas—by all of us!"

Ghostwriter saw he couldn't win, unless…

He quickly turned to Sydney Poindexter and pleaded, "I'm sure you understand how I feel, my friend. I can't be bullied into this if I don't have all my powers back. Besides, Christmas will be here in less than a week! I don't think I'll have time to plan and do that…nice thing for the half-ghost especially if I don't have all my powers back. My keyboard enhances my powers and it has not been made whole."

Technus interjected in defense, "Hey, I can't help it if it had obsolete technology!"

But before the fifties' ghost could respond either to Ghostwriter or Technus, Skulker bellowed, "Enough of this! Are you or aren't you going to give your word? It's your choice." But Skulker's hand was still gripping his unsheathed blade, silently expressing what would happen if Ghostwrite gave him any other answer than the one the hunter wanted to hear.

Spectra added fuel to the fire as she playfully pointed out, "And it will be binding since technically we're still sort of in the beginning of the Christmas season!"

She suddenly turned and glowered at Bertrand. Her penetrating glare was enough to stop Bertrand from correcting her even as she quickly took the words right out of his mouth, "So, okay, it's not that close to Christmas. Do you have to get so technical?"

Bertrand shrugged before smiling wickedly and slightly cocking his head in signal to the female shadow ghost.

Spectra's eyebrows rose in delight. She understood what he meant and quickly followed suit.

When they both moved, the other ghosts aped them without any hesitation.

In spite of the fact that all of the ghosts had begun to step closer to him with wicked and slightly threatening smiles on their faces, Ghostwriter still claimed, "I would give my word if I had all of my powers!"

Sydney finally asked, "You mean you can't write anything at all since your keyboard isn't quite boss?"

"No, I can write," Ghostwriter replied before adding, "But there won't be as much power behind the words because the keyboard isn't capable of writing in rhyme, which has the most power behind it."

"But you said you can still write," Kitty reiterated.

"Yes, but only in prose, which is not as powerful. In fact, —"

Technus blurted out, "Hey! He said he could write. So, I did fix it! And it has power!"

"I agree, b—" Ghostwriter replied, only to be cut off before he could finish.

"Done, then!" Skulker suddenly exclaimed, his hand lowering from his sword at last.

The cyborg ghost had purposely jumped in so that this meeting would finally end. Besides, he wanted Ghostwriter to own up to what he had agreed upon in the first place.

Ghostwriter's green eyes widened in surprise before he sighed in resignation. He knew all along that he would agree. But he really couldn't help himself for being reluctant at first. After all, he never imagined that helping Danny Phantom would be part of the deal. He was sort of willing to chance being a virtual outcast from now on unless he could have at least tried to find some kind of plot hole to get out of this mess—even when he had to admit that he had gotten himself into it. Still, even though this assignment was going to be tough, he really had no choice about it. He had to agree.

The grey-skinned, pointy-eared ghost sighed again and uttered, "Done. I agree!"

"Goodie!" Klemper squealed while Chilly-Billy chirped in harmony.

"'Bout time!" Ember grumbled.

Spectra sighed in exasperated relief.

"And you have until midnight Christmas to complete the task," Skulker reminded him.

Ghostwriter nodded in agreement but then frowned when Skulker added, "And you cannot let the Ghost Boy know what you are doing!"

"Hey!" the writer ghost objected before sighing. What was the point of objecting? He was bound to the terms. Then he startled at his next thought. Without his full powers, it was almost certain that the half-ghost would catch him!

He blurted out, "But I can only write in prose. What if I can't complete the task since I'll have less power?"

Obviously relishing the moment, Skulker smugly replied, "This is a magical season, which will only grow stronger as Christmas nears. And you do have imagination. Figure it out!"

Ghostwriter swallowed hard just as Technus waved his technological wand. The oval keyboard reappeared and as soon as Ghostwriter touched it, he felt its power once more. He snapped his fingers and the keyboard instantly shrunk to the size of a small brooch. He placed it in one of the inside pockets of his purple coat and turned to go.

As he flew out of Ember's lair, the bespectacled ghost frowned. This was a very hard literary price to pay. He didn't have that much time. He had only a few days to come up with some plan. And he didn't know if he could pull it off or not. Still, he continued to think about it as he flew onward…

Ghostwriter's green eyes flared in excitement at his next idea. At least that would be a start. He veered in another direction. After all, like all talented writers, he would have to investigate the background of his subjects…

* * *

_Screech!_

"That's another goner!" Jack said a bit too enthusiastically as he etched a line onto the main pole of the free-standing coat-and-hat rack that was perched beside the open front door of the Fenton household. That crudely-made line joined several very old and some not so old other ones.

Maddie glanced at the last of the moving van that had just left the only house next to theirs as it disappeared behind the hill. She sighed dejectedly. Like all of the others, that moving van left in a hurry without any goodbyes from the neighbors. She frowned at the thought. For that matter, she didn't remember saying more than a 'hello' to all of those countless…

She turned and quickly inspected the pole on that hat-and-coat rack before correcting her thoughts. Okay, she still didn't remember saying more than 'hello' to those _forty-five_ sets of neighbors that had come and gone since she and her husband had moved in. Most of those neighbors had only stayed a few days. The record so far was two-and-a-half weeks. But for the most part, the house remained empty more than not. And the longest had been just before Thanksgiving until just a few days ago. She didn't like that record—and for that matter, she suddenly didn't like all of those etches on her hat-and-coat-rack that kept track of those elusive neighbors, either!

"It's a good thing that we decided to use striped wallpaper when we re-decorated the foyer, hon," she sarcastically began. "It really brings out the tan stripes in our otherwise mahogany coat rack!"

"You think?" her husband chortled a bit cluelessly. He then cocked his head and looked at the dark brown horizontal striped wallpaper and playfully added, "Do you think the stripes make the front room look fat?"

His wife puckered her face in more dissatisfaction.

When Jack saw her reaction, he winced. He knew she was upset again about the house next door being vacant for the umpteenth time. He wrapped his large arm around her and apologetically said, "Aw, c'mon, sweetcakes! So another neighbor has vamoosed. There will be others. There always are."

Maddie furrowed her brow with that thought before pulling away from him and uttering, "Just why is that, Jack? Why do our next door neighbors keep coming and going?"

"I don't know, sweetheart, but at least we still have the same neighbors in back of us!"

"That's because they have a twelve foot fence and six foot high and just as deep worth of bushes and two backyards—theirs and ours—buffering us from them. We never see them, either!" she dryly said.

Jack, however, could tell that there was sadness interlaced with his wife's sarcastic bravado. After all, she had grown up in the country and had known and befriended all of her neighbors.

"There's nothing wrong with the house from the outside at least. True, it's painted blue like all the rest," Maddie continued.

"Except ours! We are unique!" Jack interjected, trying to cheer her up.

At first her face barely moved from her frown. True, theirs was the prettiest house on the block, but she still didn't understand why the neighbors were so stand-offish. Maybe her neighbors were jealous of their home? She didn't think so…Then maybe her house was too unique. But then the word stuck out. Unique!

She suddenly gasped in excitement at her next thought, "Jack, maybe the house next door is haunted!"

"No, I don't think so, sugar-doodle," he countered more seriously. His face brightened as to why he thought that. He continued with more pride in his voice, "If it was, Danny would have detected them right away and sent them unhappily on their way back to the Ghost Zone! Now, it is also true that a lot of ghosts ended up there after being thrown out of our house either by Danny or us, but Danny makes sure they don't stay long either way."

Maddie smirked at the thought as well and said, "Of course you're right, dear." She then sighed and added, "Still, somehow it just seems lonelier with a vacant house next door, especially during the holidays. I mean, couldn't they have waited until after the New Year to leave? It's just seems so wrong to leave when the best holidays of the year are here! And will I ever be able to swap cookies with my next door neighbors like my family did all the time when I was growing up?"

Jack smiled sympathetically and gently pulled his wife into a quick hug before replying, "You know that I'll always be your 'number one' cookie fan, sweetcakes. Heh-heh. Maybe having no next-door neighbors will be less of a distraction for you for now. And that means that you can start to save up all of your baking for the next holiday."

Maddie smiled weakly. He really was trying. Still, she sighed, "If there will be any neighbors for the next holiday!"

Jack bit his lower lip. She was really down in the dumps more than usual when it came to the neighbors. But he still wanted her to feel better. He hugged her again and said, "Whenever they come, we'll just have to make sure to make them feel even more at home than our home, okay, honey?!"

"Oh, Jack!" she said with a slightly larger smile as she warmly hugged him back.

She really did love and appreciate his goofy sweetness. Sure, it was possible that they might get new neighbors. After all, there was plenty of time. Christmas wouldn't be here for about another week. Still, she doubted that they would be getting any new neighbors before that wonderful holiday.

Wonderful holiday.

The last time she and her husband had argued about it was just before that Ghostwriter ghost had interfered two Christmases ago. After Danny had finally told them about that incident, they had decided to put their differences aside and celebrate it in the true spirit in which it was meant to be. In fact, it had become their favorite holiday and they now overdid their enthusiasm for it.

She silently chuckled. So what if they overdid it? She really didn't believe that rumor. They didn't decorate the outside of their house so heavily that the city used it as a reference point to guide all sorts of travelers during foggy or snowy nights at Christmastide. If it was true, she was sure that the city wouldn't have ever billed them for all that electricity they used for what the city considered to be a 'public service'.

Besides they weren't the only ones in the neighborhood to decorate. The others did their fair share—and all of Amity Park for that matter—which she thought was just as nice. She sighed. Still, there would be a huge 'burned-out light bulb' that would ruin the entire neighborhood if no one moved in to the house next door before Christmas.

She pulled away from her husband again and looked up at him. His smile was encouraging and suddenly she didn't want to get him any more upset with her holiday blues.

"C'mon, hon, I'll fix you some lunch," she finally said with a weak smile.

"Oh, joy!" the man triumphantly replied. "Will you give me a 'taste test' on that new recipe you've been working on? I told Danny that I would give him the full critique when he got home from school today."

"Of course, Jack," she affectionately replied.

She knew her son didn't care about those kinds of things, but that he would listen to his father nevertheless. It really did warm her heart to know that they were growing closer ever since the 'Fright Knight' affair.

They both headed to the kitchen, unaware that a set of invisible eyes had been watching their every move and heard every word…

Ghostwriter smiled as he reappeared shortly after the couple left and phased to the outside.

But as soon as his body had pulled completely out of the building, he gasped and turned invisible and intangible once more.

Two men were standing in the very spot where he had exited the building, which he had previously thought would be safe since it was in the small alley that separated the Fenton home from the vacant one next door to it. He easily floated through the man into whom he would have otherwise bumped.

One of the humans looked rather young and was tall and slender. His black hair stuck oddly out from under his tight-fitting dark green winter cap. The other one was definitely older, shorter and chubbier, and probably was bald since his winter cap starkly outlined the shape of his head. And both were also clothed in heavy coats since it was quite cold outside and it had snowed the day before.

But besides the fact that he almost accidentally overshadowed one of them, Ghostwriter had noticed right away that they were so deep in their lively conversation that they probably wouldn't have noticed a Mac truck barreling down upon them, much less one ghost.

Nevertheless, the purple-and-grey clad writer ghost was intrigued enough to listen in…and maybe even take a few notes…

"Oh, for Pete's sake, Pete!" the younger one said in exasperation at how stubborn his companion was acting. This was just going to be another quick deal and for the first time, the older man was hedging.

"Ha-ha, very funny, Fred," Pete Fisher dryly replied. "If jokes sold property, you'd be a millionaire."

"I wouldn't complain," Fred Preston quipped, ignoring his companion's reflexive scowl. Instead he smirked, patted the side wall of the blue house almost as affectionately as he would his pet and said, "I don't know what it is about this piece of property, but it changes hands so often that our real estate business makes a killing on the commissions it generates throughout the year! It's a real gold mine and the perfect scheme!"

Pete frowned as he thought, _Quit pretending about it to me. There aren't any buyers here._ But instead of going with that thought right away, he replied more seriously, "I don't know, Fred. Somehow it doesn't seem right anymore."

"What's wrong with making money?" Fred asked. "We don't lie about the place."

"You mean we don't tell the truth about it," Pete finally blurted out.

Fred looked at the older man and pointedly said, "Would you want to be the one to tell them the truth?"

Each of the real estate agents knew the real reasons why no one stayed long. But they also didn't think that any perspective buyer would believe them if they told them the reasons, especially when the explanations was so wild that even they didn't believe them! They couldn't possible disclose any of that or else they would never sell the place!

Pete shook his head 'no' and the two of them fell silent.

Fred finally said, "It shouldn't be hard to sell again. There's nothing wrong with anything inside of it. And the outside is just as good."

"That's because no one stays in it enough to break anything!" Pete pointed out.

"Well, okay. But that doesn't mean anything except that it is still an attractive buy!" When Fred saw that his business partner wasn't smiling, however, he added in chagrin, "You _do_ want to sell the house in the end, don't you?"

"Maybe," Pete concurred. "But I hate all that paperwork. What we've already done for this house alone could fill up the library!"

"Ah, but just think about this: all that paper does turn to green and jumps into the bank!" Fred slyly said before winking.

Pete faked a smile and replied, "Well, money isn't everything, you know."

Fred shook his head and the hair sticking out from beneath his cap jiggled oddly. "Says the man who finally got that boat he wanted since he was five!"

"Through honest work!" the older man interjected defensively.

"Right!" Fred said, though his voice sounded sardonic.

Pete frowned in disapproval before he continued, "Let's just try to get this done right this time, okay? I just feel that we should, since this is the holidays and all."

Fred frowned. Just his luck for the older man to start mellowing! Still, he faked a smile and replied, "Like you said, Pete, we've always done this the right way!"

"Yeah, well, okay," the older man conceded uncomfortably. He still felt guilty about this property. "But it might help if you don't accept just anyone who comes along. I just think this is a special place that needs someone special."

"Now look who's joking! Using our motto against me: 'All special places need special people'. Ha-ha. What is it with you, Pete?" Fred asked, exasperated once more. "In this economy, anyone is special and can get this special place! And really, this works for us and the buyers. So far, we've only sold it to people moving up the corporate ladder and they wouldn't want to hang around here anyways since no one in his right mind would want to stay in this dump of a town! It's the perfect scheme, even with those supposed…'problems'. I just think it's this city's own desperate scheme to get people to move here or something. Ahem. Those…problems about the place only helped motivate them to move on, and make us more money, so no one would be the wiser about those problems!"

"Which is exactly the problem! This house might get a reputation of being jinxed and then we'll be stuck with it." Pete began, before silencing. He pursed his lips and sighed.

Pete really didn't know why he was being so bummed about the place. Maybe it was because he suddenly didn't like to see a house empty around the holidays. Maybe he really was tired of all that paperwork for this particular house. Maybe that bit of lying about the place was getting to him. But really, maybe it was because he was so tired of seeing it more than his own home!

Fred rubbed his gloves together. He was getting colder and yet he needed Pete on board with him in order to sell the place. And maybe the older man was right and he was looking at it the wrong way. Sure it was a gold mine now, but if too many people caught on, the house could get the reputation of being a lemon. But he still liked the lemonade that he got from the place and wasn't so sure if he was totally sold on the idea of making sure it _stayed_ bought. Still, he had to appease his partner before they both would freeze to death arguing!

Fred wrapped his arm around his colleague in assurance—and to get warm—and seriously said, "Oh, so that's it! I'll tell you what, then, Pete. I know you'll try harder to find the right people to buy this place but I promise that so will I, just for you. In fact, there's this family who called me yesterday and they're desperate for a house. The father just got a job at some big shot company called Vladco and can start as soon as he finds a home."

"Another corporate ladder climber soon to fall off of it!" Pete moaned.

"No. No. I think this time we have someone who wants to stay," Fred hurriedly said, telling the truth. "The father says his wife's about to have another baby and she has always wanted to settle down in a small town! Not only that, but he also has two other children. And because of that, the father is going to come by himself in a couple of days for the final inspection of the place and to sign the papers right away."

"You're just saying that!" Pete insisted.

"No, I'm not!" Fred insisted back. "I can show you! Their last name is Patterson and I have all their paperwork on my desk back at the office! And I think we still have time to catch the last train home. So, how about it? We can both work on this and if we're lucky, this deal will stick. Heh-heh. You can even say that this will be my early Christmas present to you because that family wants to be settled before Christmas!"

Pete smiled weakly and said, "Thanks, Fred. Let's get to work on it right away, then!"

"That's the spirit —a little early, but that's okay!" Fred quipped as the two walked to the front door of the vacant house to lock it up before heading off for their own city.

In the meantime, Ghostwriter, who had stayed invisible the entire time, had actually been taking notes shortly after the two humans had been talking. And he came up with an idea during that time. But just as the two humans began to walk away, Ghostwriter startled. Wait. That idea wouldn't do. He had to do something nice for _Danny Phantom_, not his family!

He then smiled wickedly. With what he had in mind, he could always _make_ it so that he was doing something nice for the boy. Wait. That wouldn't do after all! If the Ghost Zone heard about that, they might say that it didn't count! He frowned. That meant he would have to wait for the half-ghost to return home!

Still, the ghost thought it wouldn't hurt to have some kind of plan rather than none right now. The literary ghost flew over to the two men. Once they had stopped at the front door of the recently vacated house, the pointy-eared ghost reached into one of their pockets and pulled out one of their business cards.

Ghostwriter looked at it and smiled when he could clearly see the real estate business's address. He pocketed the card and phased into the vacant house. It would do to wait here until the Ghost Boy returned home from school…

The ghost, however, knew he didn't have to wait long. Every once in a while he peeked out one of the windows to look for school buses or any other signs that children were off from school. Finally, his patience paid off and it was time for him to be as stealth as possible and spy on the Fentons once more. He knew he had to be extra careful so as not to be detected by the Ghost Boy's unique ghost sense. He kept just outside of the window in complete intangibility and invisibility, ever watching and listening as the two Fenton children entered their home. He was very thankful that he found out what he needed to know in very short order…

In fact, once Danny and his sister did get home, they both noticed right away that their mother was sitting in the living room —which was unusual in and of itself. But they could tell by the way she was sitting and _just sitting_ that something was wrong.

Jazz, being Jazz, immediately cornered her father and easily wormed out of him everything she wanted to know —and some things she didn't want to know.

The girl hurried to her brother and informed him what was wrong and that they both needed to try to cheer their mother up. Shortly afterward, they went into the living room where their mother was and began their task…

After several minutes of her best psycho-babble, Jazz was getting exasperated. Nothing she had said so far was getting through to or helping her mother come out of her funk.

The redhead finally insisted, "Mom, it's not the end of the world!"

"Jazz's right, Mom," Danny chimed in. "Sure, it would be nice to have a cool kid move in next door, but it's not bad having it empty, either. That way we don't have to worry about any complaints."

Jazz twisted back and frowned at her brother before saying under her breath so that only he could hear, "How is that helping?"

"I don't know, but it sounded good at the time!" he quietly quipped back with a mischievous grin.

Jazz rolled her eyes at him. He was right, of course, about the complaints. All kinds of strange noises did escape from their home on more occasions than not because of their parents' experiments. Not only that, but most ghost alerts and attacks were concentrated here because, after all, the Fenton ghost portal—and Danny Phantom—were here. But reminding their mom about that wasn't going to help!

She turned back to their mother and continued, "Mom, I'm sure that we'll get some nice neighbors soon and they will be the 'staying' type."

"I don't know, kids," Maddie said with a sigh. "And I'm sorry for still being upset. I really appreciate what you're trying to do, but it'll take me a while to get over it. Thanks for trying."

Silence fell upon the family. And Maddie's discouragement began to reach them all. After all, the old adage was true: when mom was unhappy, no one was happy.

Danny didn't really realize until then that this recent move by their former neighbors had really affected his mom for the worse. And he couldn't stand to see her upset like this.

"C'mon, Mom! It upsets us to see you like this," he began. "I wish we could get new neighbors soon! And we'll do our best to keep them when we do."

Ghostwriter's eyes brightened at the news but then he frowned when the half-ghost's sister turned back to him and didn't look pleased. That _wasn't_ good news? The grey-skinned ghost was so worried about it that he forgot his first objective and stuck his intangible and invisible head through the window so he could hear better.

"And how are we going to do that with all those ghosts, little brother?" Jazz asked under her breath once more.

"I don't know, but it _still_ sounded good at the time," he quipped again with another mischievous smile.

Suddenly, his ghost sense went off.

Ghostwriter also noticed the wisp of frost exiting the boy's mouth and knew that he had been detected. If he was caught, all bets were off! He quickly pulled away from the Fenton's home and headed to that hidden portal to escape to the Ghost Zone.

In the meantime, Danny squirmed in place. If he left now, then he might get his mom more upset. Still, he couldn't ignore the ghost.

But, fortunately, his mom helped in her own way. She stood up before smiling weakly at her family and said, "Hey, everybody, let's not worry about it anymore, okay? I'll be all right! Now, let me go start dinner."

"Now you're talking, sugar-doodle!" Jack enthusiastically said as he scooped up his wife and kissed her.

"That's our cue!" Jazz and Danny said at the same time as they ran out of the room.

As soon as Danny was out of eye- and ear-shot, he transformed into his alter ego, turned intangible, and soared to the outside of the house.

But the young hybrid didn't know that the delay in his getting out there was enough for the Ghostwriter to escape completely undetected.

After a few more minutes of searching, Danny stopped in mid-air and shrugged. He might as well give up. He knew that the ghost must have been on its way, which suited him just fine. He quickly returned to his room...

* * *

Once Ghostwriter was within the Zone, he thought a little more about his plan. He smirked to himself, _Alright, then. I had to be sure and now I am. The boy wants to have new neighbors if it would make his mother happy. So all along it would have counted: if Danny Phantom's family was happy, he was happy as well! So now my plan is perfect and will do something especially nice for Danny Phantom! _

But then another thought struck him. Before he could begin to work on his plan, he would have to find out about the other parties involved in this plan.

He stopped, pulled out the business card that he had put into his coat pocket and studied the address. He then pulled out his shrunken keyboard and threw it slightly upward before snapping his fingers just about at the same time.

The keyboard grew to its full size and Ghostwriter floated right up and into the middle of it. He entered his request and found the directions to the real estate business. He then typed the commands which created another portal. Without wasting any more time, he floated out of the center of the keyboard, snapped his fingers and re-pocketed the transformed 'travel size' keyboard back into one of his lavender coat's pockets, and jumped into the portal.

He floated out of the portal and right into the real estate agents' office.

Good. No one was here and that would make his task quicker and easier.

"That human said the last name of that family was 'Patterson' and there can't be too many of them!" he said quietly as he flitted from desk to desk, which, fortunately, were few.

Finally, his green eyes lit up triumphantly when he found for what he was looking. He grasped the piece of paper and quickly read it.

But when he saw the address listed on the paper, Ghostwriter frowned. There were several huge red words that had been stamped on the front which read, 'DOES NOT QUALIFY' and the first address had been scratched out and a different, handwritten one had replaced it. And that new address was nowhere near the Fentons! He searched a bit more on all of the desks, yet none of them listed potential homes for any other Patterson family.

"So, that human was more of a cad than I thought!" the bespectacled ghost growled under his breath. "He was still lying to that fatter one! Well, we will just have to do something about that, won't we? But first, I need to do a little more research."

He pulled out his small keyboard, changed it as before, and created another portal close to his target. Once the portal had formed, he reversed the process for his keyboard, carefully placed it in his pocket, and entered the portal.

He was soon satisfied of what he saw and how it all would play in his plan. He felt more hopeful now.

He quickly followed the same steps to creating a portal that would bring him close to his lair. Once he secured his keyboard, he jumped into the portal…

In no time Ghostwriter saw his lair.

It was designed to look like a library, only that his 'library' was the only one whose walls were made out of very large books.

He greeted the two huge ghostly lion statutes guarding the entrance to his abode. He lightly yet affectionately petted them both as he passed them and continued into his home with their soft kitten-like purring dancing in his ears.

He hurried to his work room and headed to the far side of the room where he kept books for occasions just like this. He pulled out three identical black books that sat among a dozen or so of the same type of cover. The literary ghost quickly flipped through each book and smiled. They would do just nicely.

He chuckled quietly under his breath as he added,"Now, I have to agree with those two human real estate agents I encountered earlier today. It is time to get to work!"

He placed the three black books on a small table and reached into his pocket. He pulled out all his notes and his diminutive keyboard and lightly tossed all of them into the air while snapping his fingers almost at the same time.

His oval keyboard and several of its monitors instantly expanded until it had reached its limit while the notes hung suspended in the air just in front of the keyboard. He then tossed the three black books into the air and they floated next to the notes.

Though Ghostwriter frowned at his keyboard's still oval shape, he nevertheless floated up into the middle of it. He reflected on his task, wondering how this sub-par keyboard could increase his powers. But then he suddenly smiled when he remembered Skulker's words: _This is a magical season, which will only grow stronger as Christmas nears. And you do have imagination. Figure it out!_

After a little pause, he thought to himself,_ I might not be able to create poetry and make my spell perfect or unbreakabl_e… _But it will still be my prose and it will be in a style that will definitely be magical! _He paused again._ At least, I hope so because I stink at prose!_

Nevertheless, the literary ghost started to type furiously, referring to his notes as necessary. As each word was completed, a tiny beam of pink energy soared out of the keyboard, split into three, and infused themselves into the books. And as each beam was absorbed into the books, their pink aura glowed more brilliantly.

Finally, the ghost was through. He typed in the binding command and after one last burst of brilliance, all three books dulled until they looked like three ordinary human books.

He hurriedly typed in the codes and three portals opened. He had purposely created portals in three different sizes. He knew that the larger the portal, the longer it stayed open. And since he had to deliver the books as close at the same time as possible, he had to allow himself extra time between coming and going through each portal.

Ghostwriter shrunk and put his keyboard away before he grabbed the three books. Though he was happy that he was about to wrap everything up, he was still worried. He hoped this would work. After all, the three books had to be activated almost at the same time. And there was no guarantee that he would avoid getting caught by the Ghost Boy. But if he was successful, he would get that peace and start to write what he wanted…He swallowed hard at his next thought. It was definitely less distasteful than the alternative.

He hurriedly jumped into the smallest of the portals and quickly deposited his first book. When he returned to his lair through that first portal, it instantly disappeared. Then he did the same for the second and last books. And each time when he returned, the portal he had used was swallowed back up.

Finally, he had placed all the books. He took out his keyboard from his coat pocket and transformed it to its full size once more. He checked that the connection to the books and his keyboard was secured and sat down on the chair in the middle of the oval.

All he could do right now was wait. He hoped that he had guessed right on how they would be found and by whom….

* * *

_Creak!_

Pete Fisher and Fred Preston slowly opened the door and pulled themselves into their office. They closed the door slowly so as not to knock off the Christmas wreath hanging on its outside. But they would have closed it slowly without the wreath for another reason. They had actually missed the last train back to their city and had to take a late night bus. And the ride had been so rough they hadn't been able to sleep all night.

After he had called his wife, Pete had still insisted to get right to work on the Patterson account.

Fred didn't care one way or another. He was single and he was so ambitious that staying overnight or coming early into his office was as normal as being in his own apartment.

Still, they sat down at their desks, shuffled a few papers, and promptly lay their heads down on their desks.

Pete was about to fall asleep when he yawned and said, "I'll go make some coffee."

"Good idea," Fred sleepily said as he tried to wake himself up.

Pete headed over to the small closet that had been converted to a break room. He frowned, wondering if he was even awake at what he saw.

A large gleaming book lay on top of the coffee maker, which was right next to the door. But the man was so groggy, it never occurred to him just how odd that was.

"I definitely need a cup," he mumbled just as he reached to remove the book from the coffee machine…

* * *

The Fenton family woke at the usual time since Danny and Jazz were planning to get some last minute Christmas shopping done with all the rest of the frenzied last-minute shoppers. Once they had finished their morning routines, it was time for breakfast.

Usually Danny was always the last one down. But he had actually gotten a good night's sleep for a change. But, really, this hadn't been the first time lately. He had actually been getting lots of change in his sleep—for the better— ever since Halloween.

In fact, this time of year had become the boy's favorite time for several reasons; one of main one's being that ghost activity slowed between Halloween and New Year's. He attributed part of that to the ghosts' avoiding Halloween and the other to the ghosts' annual Christmas truce, but he figured that ghosts were just as inclined to extend holiday spirits as much as humans did—which was fine with him.

In any event, Jazz had actually been the last one down to eat breakfast. She had been up most of the night scouring the internet for deals. Usually she never waited this late to shop for Christmas, but she had had a cold recently that had set her planning back and she had to make up for all that lost time at the last minute.

As she began to pass by the living room, her eyes happened to glance at something that was not quite in place. She slowed her pace and scrutinized the area. There. She frowned. How she could see that in the midst of the heavy Christmas decorations was beyond her. Still, she didn't remember any black book looking like _that_. It didn't even have a title. She was about to investigate further, when—

"Jazz! Hurry up or your breakfast will get cold!" she heard her mother call.

"Coming, Mom!" the girl dutifully called, making a mental note to check out that black book right after breakfast.

* * *

Meanwhile, in the Patterson household…

"We eat boxes again?" the three-year-old girl whined.

Her five-year-old brother scowled at his sister yet said nothing and continued to eat his own breakfast.

"Please, Rosie, we've told you a hundred times the reason why," her mother sighed tiredly before gently correcting her daughter, "And it's 'do we have to eat sitting on the boxes again.'"

The mother immediately stretched a bit before stirring the scrambled eggs again. She had slept uncomfortably again last night. And she was sorer today than usual. Not that it had been a surprise. Her third child was due at the end of the year and she was definitely in the final weeks. But there was even more reasons why she was so tired. She was still taking care of her two other children and having to pack up their house by herself. And that was because they were about to move.

Her husband helped when he could, but he had also been working long hours trying to save up enough money for their move; and so, his wife hadn't asked him for too much help.

The mother had turned to place some eggs on a plate when she spied a small purple blanket on the counter near the trashcan. She didn't remember seeing it put there or that it had accidentally covered up a black book. But she definitely knew the culprit who had put it there.

She chided, "Rosemarie, get your _blan-blan_ off the counter this instant."

The little girl looked at her mother with wide eyes before turning to another sound.

Just then, however, the young family looked at the person who had just entered the room. Rosie immediately got up and ran toward her well-dressed father. Her brother Jimmy, however, didn't move from his spot.

The tall young man immediately scooped up his daughter into his arms and kissed her on her nose.

"Good morning, honey," he affectionately said to her.

With his daughter still in his arms, the man walked over to his wife, leaned over and gave her giving her a quick kiss on _her_ nose.

"Good morning, honey," he said with a wink, ignoring his daughter's giggle and his wife's slight scowl. "You know I have to acknowledge the 'boss' first."

He immediately followed up with another soft—and appropriate—kiss to his wife. "You look beautiful, beautiful," he whispered.

The pretty young mother smiled this time and cooed, "Oh, Hank! You are such a josher!"

"But you have to admit that you love it!" he teased as he gently set their daughter down and took his wife into his arms. "But not as much as I love you!"

His daughter giggled again before pushing her small body between the hugging couple.

The parents softly laughed and pulled away.

The father walked over to the table and sat down on one of the boxes next to his son.

Rosie also ran over and sat on the other side of her brother yet nearest the counter where her purple blanket still lay. She twisted slightly and grabbed a hold of the blanket, but not enough to pull it off the counter.

"So, how are you today, partner? Ready for Santa Claus?" Hank half-seriously asked his son.

"Sandy Claws!" his sister giddily yelled as she suddenly leaned against her brother. "You butter be good!"

The boy, however, was unimpressed with Rosie's antics. He merely shrugged and continued to eat. Only that, for all the time he had already spent at breakfast, he hadn't really eaten much.

The boy's father frowned in worry before glancing up at his wife, who was approaching him with his breakfast. He could tell by her look that she wanted to talk to him about it later. The man obliged his wife and ate his breakfast in silence.

Finally, the family was through and it was time for the father to leave.

His wife glanced at the clock and hurriedly announced, "Jimmy, you better go get your backpack. The bus will be here soon; and I'm sure you don't want to miss your class's Christmas party on the last day before Christmas vacation."

The boy didn't so much as smirk at her words. Instead, he silently got up and immediately obeyed his mother.

"I help!" Rosie squealed.

She impulsively jumped off the box upon which she had been sitting on, intending to run after her brother. But she had forgotten that she was still holding onto her blanket; and so when she stood up, she unconsciously jerked the blanket, which swirled around and smacked her into the box. Not only that, it pushed the book off of the counter.

Two thuds sounded very close to the other as the book fell to the floor and Rosie fell onto her bottom.

The parents looked at the girl who looked more stunned than hurt. But they immediately knew it was the former when the girl giggled, pulled herself and the blanket off of the ground, and darted out to 'help' her brother.

Now that the couple was momentarily alone, they could squeeze in a more serious conversation.

"It will be nice when we finally get settled," Katie softly said. "Maybe things would be a bit cheerier if we could have decorated for Christmas. At least for the kids."

Her husband bit his lower lip. He knew things had been very hard on them financially in the last several months. And now that he gotten that new job, the pressure was almost as bad because he still hadn't found a house and he couldn't start his new job until then. Not only that, it had been especially hard on his wife with her condition since she had to care for their other children and work on being ready to move at a moment's notice in case they could move into their new home right away.

He took her gently into his arms and replied, "Things are looking better all-around for us, Katie. Though things have been tight for a while and this move will be harder on us financially, I think this will be our last move. But I think with the new job, we'll get out of this slump sooner than we both think," he weakly said.

"I know, honey, but I'm not really upset about that, Hank. I'm still really worried about Jimmy," the young mother confided.

"He'll be alright, Katie," Hank tried to assure her, though he, too, was concerned. "We just have to give him more time."

"But it's been over a month since your father died and Jimmy hasn't said a word since! He doesn't even pick on his little sister, either!" Katie said, getting more emotional.

Even though Hank was also still mourning the unexpected loss of his father and how much it had affected his son, he took his wife into his arms and softly said, "I've tried to explain things to him and tried to help him, but it's been hard for me, too." He paused and tried to steel himself before he continued. After all, he had to be strong for his wife right now. "But you know how close he was to Dad."

"It didn't help that we named him after Dad, either." She immediately stopped and quickly apologized, "You know I didn't mean it like that, Hank! I love the name."

Hank nodded. He knew what she meant.

Katie continued, "But what I mean is that it's harder because Jimmy loved it when Dad called him 'Little Jim' while calling himself 'Big Grandpa Jim'. They were real characters together...And now…" she began to tear up and buried her face into her husband's chest.

Hank softly kissed the top of his wife's head and swallowed hard. He really did feel helpless about it. It also didn't help that they had been strapped financially for almost a year. Still, he wanted to cheer his wife up since he knew he wouldn't be able to keep his head together at work if he left her like this.

He gently said, "Hey. I promise that if Jimmy's not better after we've settled into our new house, I'll have a long talk with him, and if necessary, get him some help."

His wife looked up at him and he brushed her tears away before kissing her once more.

Just then, they heard a squeal and they turned in time to see Rosie running into the kitchen with a huge smile on her face.

"I find my dollie!" she squealed triumphantly.

A moment later, their sullen-faced son came in. He was completely ready for school.

The parents grinned at their daughter but their smiles fell a bit when they looked at their still-sullen son.

Hank cleared his throat nervously and then said, "Here, Katie, let me help you clean up."

Without waiting for any possible objection, the young father proceeded to clean up. But then as he was putting some garbage in the trash can, he noticed something gleaming just behind it.

"Honey, what's this?" he asked just as he began to reach for the black book.

Instantly curious, his two children ran over and squeezed around their father to see what he was taking about just moments before he was about to grab the book…

* * *

Ghostwriter sat up straighter in his chair when three bright messages appeared on three of his monitors.

_The humans must be near the books!_ He immediately thought, but only in partial excitement. _They have to touch them for me to see what's going on!_

He looked at the monitors and frowned. But no one had touched any of them as of yet. Still, he knew that his keyboard would alert him as soon as they had been touched. And then things would get rolling.

All of the sudden, he bit his lower lip in worry at that nagging thought. He had never done this before. His talents really lay with writing poetry and this was his first time at seriously writing prose because he was so bad at it. But what choice did he really have in the matter? A ghost's word was bond during the holidays. So, just to be sure, he wrote most of the plot and transferred them into the books already. All he needed to do once everything started was to watch it unfold and be ready to edit as necessary to get to the climax.

Ghostwriter didn't flinch any ghost muscle as he tensely waited for his plan to begin.

Suddenly, three additional and even brighter messages corresponding to each book began to pulse, getting brighter and brighter by the millisecond.

Ghostwriter readjusted his purple-framed glasses and leaned closer to those messages in anticipation. He knew that the humans were just about to touch the books. It could happen any moment, and when it did, a channel would be open and he would be able to see everything that was happening. But what was even more exciting is that he could tell that each of the books he had planted were going to be touched at almost the same time —just like he wanted!

* * *

Just as Jazz had planned after eating breakfast, she went to see about that odd book in the living room.

As she neared it, the book suddenly shimmered again and she gasped. But her curiosity about books in general overshadowed her caution, and she immediately neared it and picked it right up.

All of the sudden, she froze when she straightened and a large pink aura immediately surrounded her and the book.

Just a few minutes later, both of her parents came into the room. They had not seen their daughter yet since they were talking to each other.

"That's weird. Jazz said she was coming right back," Jack said to his wife. "You know how much she means what she says."

"I want to know what she was saying about her paper and—" Maddie began, only to gasp when her eyes finally drifted forward and caught sight of her illuminated daughter.

"Jazz! What's wrong?" she screamed.

Nevertheless, the couple rushed over to the girl and reflexively touched her on her shoulder, only to freeze in place themselves before the aura engulfed them as well.

* * *

Pete reached for the book and just as he began to pull it off the coffee maker so he could make the brew. He hadn't even lifted it entirely off of the machine when he froze in place just before he, the book, and the coffee maker were immediately blanketed in a bright pink aura.

* * *

Little Rosie and her father actually touched the book at the same time. But since Jimmy was leaning against his father, all three of them froze right in place and began to glow.

Katie screamed at the sight and she felt a slight pain shoot around her abdomen. But she reacted just like all mothers did when they thought their families —especially their children —were in trouble.

Thinking that her husband must have touched something electrical that had grounded, she reached for a broom and ran over to her loved ones. She spied the glowing black thing and swiped at it with the broom.

But then, she froze like the rest of her family and the aura quickly engulfed her.

* * *

Ghostwriter was partially relieved on how the events were unfolding. Some of those scenes fell into place a little too easy.

At almost the exact same time, Jazz, Pete and Hank picked up their respective books. As soon as each of the humans' hand had touched the book, it began to glow and the keyboard in front of Ghostwriter turned completely on and brightly glowed as well.

The connection was also now complete and Ghostwriter knew his powers would work.

"Yes!" Ghostwriter excitedly blurted out when he could see the humans who had touched each of his black books.

But then, the ghost grew sober. He started to type and added, "Now, let's get the rest of the characters together…"

He eagerly watched everything unfold as he had written…

* * *

In the meantime, Danny was finishing his breakfast. Suddenly, his keen hearing picked up his mother's cry:

_Jazz! What's wrong?_

Instantly fearing the worse, Danny reflexively morphed into his alter ego and flew out of the kitchen and toward where he was sure the yell had originated.

When he reached the living room, he gasped. Though he didn't see the book from that angle, he could plainly see that his family was frozen in place and were surrounded by a huge pink aura.

Even though he didn't know what that meant or what he could do about it at the moment, he still called out in alarm, "Mom! Dad! Jazz!"

Meanwhile, Ghostwriter's eyes darted back-and-forth between the three monitors that were displaying the events happening at each place where he had planted his books.

But when he caught sight of Danny Phantom flying into the room, the literary ghost bit his lower lip in worry. He was hoping that the boy would have remained in his human form to make things easier. He knew that the boy was strong enough to counter the effects of the aura because his literary powers were actually at their weakest at that point. So if the boy attacked only the aura, Ghostwriter's plans would be over**.** He needed the teen to touch his family —or even better, the book —for his powers to have a ghost of a chance to control the half-ghost.

"Ah-oh, here he comes," the writer ghost mumbled under his breath.

But then the ghost noticed that the boy's father's leg was touching a small end table and the aura had spread partially over it. His eyes brightened at his idea and he immediately pounded on the keys just as the boy began to circle his family...

In the meantime, Danny was trying to figure out what to do. He could see that aside of being frozen, his family didn't seem to be getting hurt by the aura. He could also tell that the aura was of ghostly origins, but he couldn't see the source. He slowly started to circle his family, searching for the reason why they were in this predicament.

Danny finally spied the glowing black book and when he guessed that it might be the source of the problem, he smiled. This would be easy to fix. But when he willed his ecto-energy into his hands with the intention of blasting the book harmlessly out of his sister's hands, several things happened nearly at once:

Ghostwriter typed in more commands and the end table shifted enough under his powers to push the Ghost Boy's father off balance. Since Jack was as stiff as a board, he immediately began to fall —along with his wife and daughter since they were all now one unit because of the aura.

Danny gasped and reflexively dove forward to catch his family. But since he was closest to the book, he also inadvertently brushed it in the process of catching his family. He instantly froze in place at the touch before he, too, was swallowed up by the aura!

"Ha-hah!" Ghostwriter chuckled in triumph as he typed in more commands, which not only immediately prevented the now entire Fenton family from falling, but also actually righted them to their original position —with Danny partially floating off of the floor, that is.

"Now for the final ensemble," Ghostwriter then said as he pushed down even more keys in rapid succession.

* * *

"Pete, didn't you say that you were going to get the coffee started?" Fred asked when it just occurred to him that his partner was taking too long to get him some much needed caffeine.

The tall, slender man walked over to where he knew the coffee pot and Pete would be. But as soon as he opened the door to the little room, he gasped at the sight.

His first instinct was to run away. But Ghostwriter was way ahead of him and had already typed in his strategy since the man was right next to the aura.

Just like a silent whip, the aura shot outward and wrapped itself around the frightened man's wrist, freezing him in mid-scream.

* * *

Ghostwriter sighed in partial relief. Now all the players were under his spell. He hammered on the keys right away and the monitors confirmed that everyone were as puppets under his word-producing fingers. He changed all the positions of each group of players so that they were comfortable enough and so that the book was placed so that all could see its contents.

Finally, he pushed the last command key and everyone —the Fentons, the real estate agents and the young Patterson family —woke up. Each of the humans —and one half-ghost —were a bit dazed at first; but oddly, none of them were frightened even when they were aware that they couldn't move from their positions. Then suddenly, all of them felt compelled to open the book amongst them and the oldest began to read it out loud.

It was time for the plot to unfold; and as the Ghostwriter had planned, it was the _exact same_ plot for all the listeners…

**_Once upon a time_**…each of the readers said simultaneously…

**…_.there was a kind family of four who was very sad because no one wanted to live next to them…_**

The Fentons instantly recognized themselves as their images appeared on all three books at their three different places. They all frowned in confusion when they sensed that they were now in the book, were moving as before, but were suddenly repeating verbatim all of their earlier conversations as if they were live DVR recorders.

The two other sets of readers wondered who these people they were compelled to read about.

_**No one wanted to live next door to them because of two evil real estate humans**…_the books continued.

Ghostwriter smirked at those words. He knew he didn't like those real estate humans right from the start. Might as well make them evil!

It was the Fentons' and Pattersons' turn to wonder who those two men were when their own earlier conversations were revealed to them on the pages of their book.

Pete and Fred weren't excluded from the confusion and the spell of being essentially thrust back in time. They winced a bit when they witnessed their own earlier conversation once again after reading about those other strangers. And though they felt a little uneasy about being able to re-enact their scene, they were happy that they were back in their office —with the book. Nevertheless, they glanced at it again as more words appeared.

**_Now as it happened, there was a very poor sweet family who had no home…_**

And as what happened to the others before, the young Patterson family then found themselves re-enacting their earlier encounters before the father had found the book as if they had never touched the book. Thinking it was some kind of magical game, Rosie chirped in delight as she happily re-played her role. Though initially very concerned about the events, the young parents calmed when seeing that their daughter wasn't frightened in the least. And when they checked on their son, they had mixed feelings. Though they were relieved that he wasn't frightened, he definitely didn't look happy about these strange events, either. Still, the young parents knew they had to remain calm for the sake of their children even when they didn't understand this at all.

Finally, the déjà vu moment for all the players was over and the story continued.

_**That is all you need to know for now**…_all three of the books reported before they all closed and disappeared!

"What was that all about?" Jazz finally said, breaking the silence.

"I don't know, but I have a hunch who could be behind it," Danny replied.

His parents and sister turned to him and Danny could tell that they wanted to hear his theory.

He continued, "The book! I had sensed that there was something ghostly about it when I first came in and saw all of you under its spell. And there is only one ghost who is obsessed with books and that would be…"

"English Ed!" Jazz suddenly blurted out.

Danny slightly winced. His sister still had the habit of misnaming ghosts.

"It's _Ghostwriter_, Jazz!" Danny said, sounding slightly irritated.

"Are you sure a ghost was involved, Son? Wouldn't you have detected him if he was around?" Jack asked.

Danny frowned. His dad was right. His ghost sense hadn't gone off…Wait. It had! But that was a lot earlier today and way before he had found his family frozen and holding that book. And he never did find that ghost. But then, another thought hit him: Ghostwriter was still in Walker's prison! And he just knew Walker wouldn't be that lenient and let the ghost go after only two years. So, could it be a new ghost he hadn't met yet? Now, he couldn't be sure it was Ghostwriter behind what they had just experienced. Still, he wasn't satisfied to think that the writer ghost wasn't behind it all, either. He would have to check on that later.

The boy finally replied, "Well, if it was Ghostwriter or some other ghost, whatever they tried to do didn't work, since we're not talking in rhyme and nothing seems like out of place… Still, I'll have to keep an eye open for anymore weirdness. I just really hope this was some random ghost thing and not… Ghostwriter…"

The rest of the Fentons paused a few moments before they nodded in agreement.

But what they didn't know was the Ghostwriter had harmlessly manipulated them into dismissing the strange occurrence. So, they were none the wiser…

Jazz suddenly gasped, "We better get to that shopping, Danny!"

Danny's eyes widened at the reminder, which quickly redirected his focus. "Right, Jazz!"

And the twosome soon left for their errands while the oldest Fentons went back to their lab…

Several hours later, the siblings were done; and they returned with a lot more stuff then they had set out to get.

* * *

"D-Do you-you believe what—" Pete shakily began, only to be cut off by Fred.

"Definitely not!" the younger man emphatically denied, since he was just as freaked out as his partner with all that weirdness. "W-We're more exhausted than we thought and really need that caffeine! Now, let's get the brew going!"

The two shaken men waited anxiously for their coffee to finish and hoped it would keep them focused on their assignments for the day.

* * *

Once the book at the Patterson household disappeared, the parents looked around in disbelief.

Rosie, however, couldn't be happier.

"Fun!" she exclaimed. "Lettuce do again!"

But her brother didn't share the same enthusiasm at all. In fact, his expression was the same it had been for the last several weeks.

When the parents saw that their children didn't seem to be affected by the unusual event, they relaxed a bit. At least they wouldn't have to explain anything to their children, especially when they couldn't even explain it to themselves! So, it would be best to just drop the subject altogether.

Suddenly, the family startled a little when the horn on the school bus in front of their apartment jolted them back to reality.

"Hurry, Jimmy, or else you'll miss the bus!" his mother anxiously commanded.

The boy immediately turned and dashed off with his little sister right on his heels.

Hank and Katie, in turn, dashed off to catch their daughter in case she would recklessly run out of the apartment in her excitement to go with her brother.

Once Hank had recaptured his still-wiggling daughter, he turned to his wife and said, "Honey, I'm going to be very late coming home. I'm taking part of the day off and going to find out about that house in Amity Park I saw advertised on that real estate website I told you about." He then smirked, winked and added, "If it's what we're looking for, I'm sure I'll find something wrong about it that I can use as leverage to haggle lowering the price! So, wish me luck, okay?"

"Good luck, then," she replied as she reached out in an offer to take their daughter for him.

After kissing each other good-bye, Hank left.

Finally, it was lunch time and Hank hurriedly placed a phone call before heading toward the train station…

* * *

"Who was that on the phone?" Fred asked Pete as he came out of the break room with his seventh steaming cup of coffee.

"That was Mr. Patterson. He's going to meet me at the train station in Amity Park and together we're going to go look at that house we inspected yesterday. We got to get the papers and then get going."

Pete hurried over to Fred's desk and quickly searched for the corresponding paperwork.

"Oh, about that, Pete," Fred began before he was cut off by his partner's rather loud rant.

**"What do you mean that that family doesn't qualify for that property and you've started the paperwork for another house?"**

Fred swallowed another bit of coffee and said defensively, "I had our mortgage broker look everything over, and that house we inspected yesterday is way out of their budget. But there's a home on the other side of town that I think would be perfect for them."

"How can you live with yourself, Fred?" Pete asked in exasperation as he looked over the papers. "This other house would be too small for a mouse family, much less this family! And it's on the seedy part of the town."

"Now before you go way off, Pete," Fred countered, "This was your idea! You didn't want to cheat anyone when it came to that other larger home, you know."

Pete scowled at his partner. But then he said, "Okay. You're right. But if the man decides to buy the home we show him—"

Once more, Fred interrupted him, "Oh, and about that, too. I can't go with you."

"What? Why not?" Pete demanded.

"Because I promised my sister that I would come over for dinner. And you know I have to keep her happy."

"Oh, I see," Pete slowly said, instantly feeling very sour. "Now that wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that our mortgage broker is your sister's husband, now would it?"

"Well, that has a little bit to do with it because his rates are a steal."

Pete frowned and added, "You would say that. But since you can't go, then I say that if that man decides to buy the home _I_ show him, then _you_ had better make sure _our _mortgage broker gets the paperwork done that same day so that family can move in right away."

Before Fred could object, however, Pete quickly added, "Hey, remember _you_ told me that family wanted to move in _before_ Christmas."

"Right!" Fred dryly said. "All right, then."

With that, Pete grabbed the papers, and headed to the train station…

* * *

Pete Fisher squirmed the entire way to Amity Park. Once he was through with this deal, he was quitting. He was tired of spending so much time away from home. Not only that, he didn't like having to trick the man he was about to meet. He wrestled with his conscience for the rest of the trip.

Finally, the real estate agent and Hank met; but they didn't recognize the other because they were so bundled up from the cold. The older man quickly hired a taxi to go to the designated home.

Once there, they quickly inspected the home. At the end of the tour, Hank stuck to his plan and announced that even though he liked the house, it wasn't exactly what he and his wife was looking for.

But before Hank had really gotten into the haggling process, something boomed in the near distance. In fact, it sounded as if it was right next door.

The two men jumped and Hank anxiously asked, "What was that?"

Peter squirmed. Though he was certain what it really was, he immediately said, "Sounded like a car backfiring to me."

The older man relaxed when it seemed that the younger man had accepted that explanation. But then, Pete's conscious finally gnawed enough at him that he felt compelled to hurry up and clench the deal.

Before he knew it, Hank not only didn't have to try to haggle again, but the real estate agent offered to sell the home for far, far less than what it had been advertised. It was an incredible deal and Hank would be a fool not to take it.

"We'll close the deal on Friday, alright, Mr. Patterson?" Pete asked in conclusion as he shook the younger man's hand.

"That soon? That's great! So when can we move in?" Hank anxiously asked.

"Why, on Monday," Pete announced. "I know it'll be Christmas Eve, but you did want to move in before Christmas, didn't you? And just because of the holiday, you can expect a little welcoming gift when you get in, okay? We do that for every buyer."

"Alright. We'll be ready!" the young man excitedly replied.

After returning to the train station, the two men parted ways; and each of them went home quite happy…

* * *

"Okay, Danny, I give," Jazz said once they had started to compare what they had bought. "What possessed you to get those?"

"Is that a pun?" Danny immediately quipped. He was trying to avoid telling her because he really didn't know what possessed him to buy those things—even when he thought it could make his mom happy in the end.

"Ha-ha, little brother," she dryly replied. "But if you don't want to tell me...

He blushed a bit but then admitted right away, "No, I was planning to tell you. And I know I should have gotten something else for Mom, but I just…thought…that if we, uh, kind of put some Christmas decorations up on the empty house next door and tell her we have new neighbors that were probably too busy unpacking to do anything else, that it would cheer her up."

"Including an artificial Christmas tree?" she countered with a half-smirk.

"It's not that big and we might as well do it right," her brother said defensively. "I can phase right in to put up the tree, and then hook its light and the lights on the outside of the house to extension cords and plug them into our outside outlet. Mom doesn't have to know."

"But that would be lying," Jazz pointed out.

"But you saw how down she was about having all those neighbors coming and going. We could always tell her that these new neighbors moved out right after Christmas. It's not like it would be a wild…uh, lie," he reply with a weak smile.

Jazz thought about it a moment and said, "Alright, little brother. But don't go making a habit out of it because if mom found out, that would bum her out even more."

Danny smiled before asking, "Okay, what did you get?"

This time Jazz blushed. She really didn't know why she ended up buying two presents for her mother when she only could usually afford to buy one. But it had been such a deal…and well, now that Danny had to have a 'cover' gift, it was perfect.

She finally said, "Well, it's a good thing that the store had a terrific sale because I got an extra gift for mom and you can say it was from you." Before her brother could comment, she teasingly added, "Maybe for once she won't get a present from you that she'll want to exchange, like every year."

"Hey, what happened to 'it's the thought that counts' thing?" Danny lightly objected.

He knew she was kidding. And, really, she was right. He was never good at gift-buying.

Jazz smiled, also knowing that they understood each other. She replied, "Good. Then that's all settled, except one thing."

One of Danny's eyebrows rose in anticipation as Jazz added, "Don't put up the decorations on the vacant house until Christmas Eve, okay? The closer to Christmas that we put them up, the faster we can take them down _afte_r Christmas."

"Okay, Jazz," Danny agreed.

* * *

The closing on the Patterson's new home went smoother than anyone expected. Pete insisted that his partner must be coming down with something to explain the fact that Fred wasn't happy during the closing transaction.

Hank, however, had a very hard time getting a moving truck so close to Christmas. After several hours, he managed to secure one. Though he wasn't happy about it, he had to agree to get it back to the company before six o'clock on Christmas Eve.

The young father hurried home and began loading their belongings into the truck right away. Christmas Eve was only two days away and it would take at least that long to load up the truck, drive the several hours they needed to get to their new home—which would include several breaks—unload the truck, and then return the truck in time.

Very late into the early morning the man finished loading the truck up with everything but what they would need in the morning. Hank fell onto his bed exhausted. But then he frowned and turned to his left. His wife was softly moaning and twisting slightly in her sleep. But she didn't wake from it and he thought it might be just a dream. And before he knew it, he was also dreaming.

Finally it was morning; and after their last minute loading, the young family was on its way to Amity Park.

* * *

Shortly after midnight on Christmas Eve, the moving truck crossed Amity Park's border. Hank was never so happy to see a sign as he continued the truck toward their designation. He was tired and he knew that his family was exhausted. They had gotten here ahead of schedule and he now had plenty of time to unload the truck. If he was lucky, he would be done before daybreak…

However, an hour _before_ midnight of Christmas Eve, Danny, who had morphed into his alter ego to make everything go quickly and without notice, had finished setting up the decorations on the outside of the vacant house next to theirs. He had already set up the small Christmas tree at the window of the front room of the house and decorated it.

The teen had just plugged in all of the extension cords into an outlet and all the lights and Christmas tree turned on when his ghost sense fired off.

He quickly flew upward, searching for the ghost. Only, he found more than a ghost. A ghost portal had opened just a few yards from his home.

Suddenly, Skulker flew out of the portal!

"Oh, no you don't!" Danny mumbled out of his breath. "What about the Christmas truce?" He paused a moment, glanced at his watch and groaned, "Oh. Yeah. That's right. It doesn't start until about twenty-five hours too late!"

He soared up at the ghost with his hands already laden with his green ecto-energy.

"What are you doing here, Skulker?" Danny asked with irritation as he squared himself in front of the cyborg ghost.

"None of your business, as usual, whelp," Skulker replied with a trace of threat lacing in his voice.

"You ought to know by now that it's always my business when a ghost shows up in the Real World," Danny countered. "And shouldn't you be home preparing for Christmas and, you know, the _truce_?"

Skulker tensed. He didn't come here to make trouble. He had come here to check on how far Ghostwriter had gotten in doing that 'something nice' for the whelp. And from what he could see, the answer was obviously 'nothing'. Still, he didn't just want to retreat and let the pup think he was going to back down _that _easily.

"Well, the truce doesn't start until Christmas, pup, so, let's start the business!" the cyborg ghost bantered back before he whipped out several rockets and launched them at the boy.

Danny easily dodged them and counterattacked.

His energy beam hit the robotic ghost dead-on and thrust him back into the portal.

But the portal didn't look like it was about to close anytime soon and Danny knew that Skulker would recover from what he had thrown at him in no time. Without hesitating, he soared into the portal and into the Ghost Zone in pursuit of his foe…

As it happened, a different, yet older ghost was travelling in the vicinity where Skulker had opened the portal. The bald ghost was sent in that direction by a mysterious ghost who remained in the shadows during their entire encounter. What made the older ghost listen was that somehow the ghost-in-the-shadows knew his name and told him things about himself that the mysterious ghost should not have known about him.

Though that worried the older ghost to hear, it didn't worry him half as much than some other things the mysterious ghost had told him. That was enough for the old ghost to listen to the mysterious ghost more seriously. And it was enough for the old ghost to set out on this unusual mission as the stranger ghost had instructed.

But now that the bald old ghost had been travelling in this direction for so long, he suddenly didn't know _how_ he was going to get into the Real World like that other ghost had insisted that he do that. Not only that, he had no clue who this 'Danny Phantom' was whom the stranger ghost insisted that he find. He slowed his speed, wondering what he should do next when he suddenly spied a ghost portal.

He knew from talking with other ghosts in the Ghost Zone that those portals were a definite way out of the Zone and into the Real World. He would take the chance. He increased his speed toward that portal. And from there, the old ghost figured he could then find his way to his ultimate designation.

But just as the old ghost was about to enter the portal, a large, flaming green-haired ghost barreled right into him. The impact was hard enough to stun the old ghost as he ricocheted off of Skulker's hard robotic body.

The old ghost landed with a thud onto a nearby small floating green shelf.

But that wasn't the last of his worries.

Skulker and Danny had taken their fight right toward that same shelf! Blasts upon blasts that missed their respective foes bit into the tiny floating shelf; and with each blow, debris of all sizes pelleted the hapless innocent by-standing ghost and tattered his ghostly clothes and skin.

Finally, however, Danny proved to be the victor in the fight and sent Skulker flying in a high, rapid arc in the direction immediately opposite to the rapidly closing ghost portal.

But just when Danny was about to turn and head back to his home, he heard a groan that was very close-by.

Danny startled. That couldn't be Skulker. ….But then his eyes widened at his next thought when he heard another groan. It was coming from that nearby floating shelf—the one that had absorbed a lot of Skulker and his stray beams!

Thinking that he had hurt an innocent ghost, Danny soared over to the shelf. And just as he had feared, when he reached its surface, there, lying on it was an old and injured ghost!

_Oh, my gosh_! Danny immediately thought as he flew closer to the ghost. He landed right next to him and helped the old ghost to his feet.

"I'm so sorry!" Danny sincerely and anxiously said. "I know you weren't doing anything wrong and you must have accidentally gotten caught in a crossfire between Skulker and me. Are you all right?"

The old ghost tried to straighten his tattered and disheveled appearance —to no avail —before he said, "Yes, I think so. I guess I'll after-live. But maybe you can help me, uh, what did you say your name was?"

"I didn't. But it's Danny," the boy replied.

The older ghost's eyes widened and he said more enthusiastically, "That's the name of the fellow I'm looking for! You don't also go by the name of Danny Phantom, do you?"

"Yes! I'm him!" Danny exclaimed before growing slightly suspicious. "Uh, how come you're looking for me? I don't know you."

"I wouldn't think you would, since I've not been here that long. But, you know, it's strange being here."

Danny smirked and quickly added, "Tell me about it…So, you still haven't told me about er, why you're looking for me."

"So, I didn't," the old ghost concurred before he filled the boy in on his dilemma and his encounter with the mysterious ghost.

Danny thought about it a moment. It certainly was a very interesting story. He then asked, "What place did you say you were trying to find again?"

"Sorry, I forgot to tell you. The address was supposed to be fifty-two Windy Hill Street."

Danny's eyes widened. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure! I may be old, but I can still hear and remember," the ghost quipped with a grin.

Danny half-smiled back. Maybe the ghost was older than he thought. That address just had to be wrong. Still, he owed the ghost for accidentally attacking him, so he would humor the poor old ghost.

"Okay, follow me," Danny gently commanded.

The old ghost soared after the Ghost Boy and stopped as soon as he did.

Danny closed his eyes in concentration before he smiled in triumphant. This was the place. He quickly produced his wulf claws and sliced diagonally in both directions to open a quick ghost portal.

* * *

In all that while, the Patterson family had gone into their new home. Hank was thankful that he had thought to request that the electricity and heater to be turned on as soon as he had bought the house because it was warm inside. Quickly picking out the rooms for his children, Hank set up their beds right away; but only lay out the mattresses for now. He gently lay each of his children on their beds and headed back to the truck to get his and his wife's mattress.

He set their mattress on the floor as well. Finally, he retrieved his children's night lights.

The man could tell that his wife was exhausted and that she looked uncomfortable, so he insisted that she go to bed right away and offered to check on the kids and set up their night lights.

The young father first went to his son's room, only to find that both he and Rosie were lying on his bed asleep. He pulled the covers over them more and smiled before he retraced his steps to the truck. He unloaded it as quickly as possible without trying to place any boxes in any room but the front one.

But when he saw that the truck was parked in front of a fire hydrant, he frowned. He didn't remember that detail when he bought the place. Still, he started the truck and moved it to the next available parking space, which was about a block away. He had plenty of time to return it to the rental place once he had gotten some sleep.

The exhausted man walked back through the snow-laden sidewalk until he reached his new home.

A weary smile grew on his face when he saw it. It was all worth it. Without losing any more time, he went in, locked the door, and turned out all of the lights as he headed to his own room.

Just like the rest of his family, Hank didn't change from his traveling clothes. And as soon as his head touched the mattress, he was asleep.

* * *

"You better go first, son," the old still very disheveled ghost said. "I've never done this sort of thing; and, quite frankly, I don't want to scare my grandkids."

Danny's face dropped a bit. He didn't want to scare any kids, either— that is, if there _were_ any in there. He was sure the older ghost was wrong. But again, he knew he owed the old ghost. And if there were kids in there, then he would have helped the old ghost.

He dove right into the portal and stopped short in the front and center of it as soon as he had crossed its threshold.

His eyes widened in disbelief. There was a small nightlight on, but the portal was lighting up the room more.

But there was more…

"Cwistmas Angel!" Rosie beamed when she was woken by all the light and caught sight of the Ghost Boy.

The shiny make-shift portal that Danny had made with his wulf claws and the way he was floating in the front of it did make it look like the portal were a pair glowing wings rather than a crude ghost portal.

The little girl then rapidly shook her brother in an effort to wake him, too.

Jimmy woke up and gasped at the sight.

Danny furrowed his brows in confusion at the little girl's remark—and the fact that he recognized her and her brother— but he kept focused on his task. He floated over to the light switched and flipped it on. But it didn't work. So he charged up a ball of his ecto energy, which lit up the room even more. He then floated up to the boy, whose eyes were so wide with both wonder and fear that they almost took up his whole face.

"Uhm, Jimmy…" Danny slowly began, trying not to startle the boy. "It is Jimmy, isn't it?"

The still wide-eyed boy slowly nodded at the Ghost Boy but remained silent. He still couldn't believe what he was seeing.

Concerned that he had indeed scared the boy, Danny backed up a bit and said as calmly as he could, "Uh, there is someone special to see you. He wants to make sure that you're not scared or anything like that. Uh, you aren't scared, are you?"

"Ha-ha, funny Cwistmas Angel!" Rosie chuckled as she ran up to the half-ghost.

Her brother startled when his sister was getting too close to that…thing. He stepped forward to pull her away. But as soon as he grabbed her arm, she yanked it out and ran even faster to Danny until she had actually jumped into his arms, extinguishing his light orb!

Danny reflexively yet gently caught her and quickly pulled an arm away and re-ignited a ball of green light.

But then the little girl noticed how flushed the Ghost Boy's face was. She pointed to him and laughed, "You Rudolf's nose!"

Not even sure what the little girl meant —though he was sure at least she wasn't scared —Danny gently set the girl to the ground right next to him and asked Jimmy again, "You aren't scared, are you? Your baby sister isn't."

The five-year-old then frowned in irritation at the Ghost Boy. He wasn't afraid of anything! He furiously shook his head to indicate a definite 'no' in response to Danny's question.

Danny smiled and turned slightly to his back and spoke into the portal, "Okay, it's all set!"

No sooner had the Ghost Boy said that when Big Jim Patterson —still looking very scruffy from his close encounter with Danny and that aggressive ghost — floated into the room.

"Big Gwampa Wim!" Rosie chirped with a wide smile before she darted into his arms.

The ghost chuckled, lifted his granddaughter up and gave her a gentle hug before turning to his grandson.

But Jimmy wasn't smiling. In fact, a second later, he burst out crying!

Quickly yet gently shoving Rosie into Danny's arms, Big Jim hurriedly floated over to his grandson and swept him up into his arms.

Finally, the young boy's cries fell to whimpers. A few moments later he choked out, "I'm-I'm sorry, Big Grandpa Jim!"

"Whatever for, Little Jim?" the grandfather quietly asked as he gently wiped the tears away from the boy.

"Y-You l-left me without saying 'good-bye'! And-And I promised God I would be a good boy and do everything mom told me to do if He would let me see you just for-for Christmas! And-And He did, but I didn't mean for you to have to fall out of heaven and get hurt!"

Though the old ghost wanted to laugh since he knew that he _did_ still look like he had fallen off of something and had gotten banged up, the old ghost assuredly said, "Oh, Little Jim, you didn't do anything wrong. Why, I was just on my way to heaven when I got a message that I needed to ask you something special."

Instantly forgetting about his months' long sorrow, the five-year-old took in a shaky breath and asked in surprise, "You were?"

The old ghost chuckled slightly and replied, "Yes, but first of all, you have to promise that you will no longer be upset about my going to heaven, all right?"

The boy frowned and lowered his head. He didn't like missing his grandfather, but he also didn't want to forget about him, either. But most importantly, he didn't want to make his grandfather sad if he refused to promise.

He raised his head and quietly said, "I promise."

"Good!" the ghost almost bellowed in delight. "Now, here is what I was sent to ask you, but before I do, you know that I'm very proud of you, Little Jim, right?"

The young boy nodded and the old ghost smiled yet continued, "Well, just because I won't be able to help you out any longer down here, doesn't mean that I don't love you and everyone else. But I need your help, sport. I need someone to take my place at helping out when it's time to do that. And I figured that since you and I have the same name, I would ask you to take the job over. It might mean that you can't be called 'Little Jim' anymore because you will have to do a bigger job. But I think you're ready. But if it gets too hard, to do that, just know that I'll be up in heaven watching over you. So, do you think you can do that, my boy?"

Little Jim smiled weakly at feeling very special. He said, "I can, and I love you, Big Grandpa Jim."

"Uh-ah. Just 'Grandpa', _Big_ Jim," the old ghost said with a wink.

The five-year-old smiled.

Suddenly, the old ghost frowned when a sudden feeling come over him. It was definitely, odd, but he knew it was true.

"Oh, that's my cue, kids. I have to go. Your baby brother is coming!" Big Grandpa Jim announced.

"What?" Danny asked, completely taken aback by the comment. How did that ghost know that?

Suddenly, however, everything around the Ghost Boy whirled around as if he were in a blender. Before he knew it, he was back in his home and in his bedroom…

And a black book was lying at his feet. But there was no title on it.

Totally confused on what happened, and even more upset about a strange sensation surrounding him, Danny nevertheless still asked himself. _Uh, what just happened?_

But then, he grew worried. He hurriedly became intangible and darted throughout the rooms of his sister and his parents. He sighed in partial relief. They were all there and sleeping in their beds.

He returned to his room and glanced at the black book that was still on the floor.

Suddenly, he narrowed his eyes at his next thought. He just _knew_ he was right!

* * *

"WHAT?" cried Ghostwriter before his keyboard suddenly turned off on its own and shrunk to the size of a brooch. Now frantic, he yelled out, "I can't believe that happened! It wasn't supposed to happen, but darn, I couldn't stop it if I wanted. But the other part's not over yet! If I don't fix this, I'm doomed!"

He grabbed his miniature keyboard, shoved it into his lavender coat, and hurried out of his lair. He frantically searched for a ghost portal. Luckily, a very small random one swirled open just a few yards from him. He soared over to it and furrowed his brow in worry at its size. But he was so desperate, he pushed himself through it. He panicked a little when it began to close just as soon as he had entered it; but with a little more effort, he made it through!

He soared to where he knew he had to go no matter how much of a risk it was. It wouldn't matter one way or the other if he didn't try to fix what happened because time was running out.

Once he saw the red house, he slowed to a near crawl and floated up to the Ghost Boy's bedroom. He had to dare to peek in. He had to think of a way to….

Suddenly, however, he felt himself being pulled away from the window by the collar of his lavender coat.

After another hard yank, Ghostwriter found himself facing a very irritated Ghost Boy with his free hand blazing with green energy!

"I knew you were behind it all!" Danny accused the ghost, before he demanded, "And how did you get out of prison? Start talking!"

The literary ghost was so upset he didn't know where to begin! But if the Ghost Boy had known all along that he was behind all of this, how did everything so far happened? No, the Ghost Boy couldn't have known.

The bespectacled ghost suddenly stammered out, "H-How could you know? My spell was working until just a few minutes ago! But the story isn't finished yet!"

"What?" Danny exclaimed in shock, yet suddenly more curious than angry. "You had me under a spell? When? How?"

"Well, not just you," Ghostwriter confessed. After all, the jig was definitely up.

"Who else did you?…when did you?…and how?…" Danny fired back.

"Since you touched that black book a couple of days ago and the how? Also when you touched the black book!" Ghostwriter nervously spilled out. "And the spell was also over your new neighbors next door and the real estate agents who sold the house to them! Only they don't know it because they are all asleep."

Danny narrowed his eyes. He didn't believe a word the ghost said, and he wanted to punch him right then and there. "That's one of the craziest things I've ever heard of! Why did you do that? Don't answer that. You said you could control me just a few minutes ago and now you can't? Why not?"

"Because of the baby!" Ghostwriter immediately answered.

"What?" Danny asked, totally rattled. That old ghost he helped also mentioned a baby!

Ghostwriter immediately explained, "As you know, I can control others with my words..."

The ghost immediately winced when Danny growled at the memory of their last encounter two Christmases ago.

Still, Danny sighed with irritation and said, "Go on."

"I can control others with my words once they're here…in the Real World or in the Ghost Zone. But I can't control when a baby will be born. I have no power over that…So now that the baby decided to come a few minutes ago, my spell was broken."

"Are you saying that a baby is about to be born in the house next door?" Danny gasped.

But suddenly, the two ghosts startled when they heard a sound immediately below to where they were. Danny looked down. A man was pounding on his front door!

"Hello? Hello? Please wake up!" the man desperately yelled. "My wife is about to have a baby! I've called an ambulance, but I have to have someone look after my kids!"

He pounded on the door more forcefully.

Danny finally reacted. He turned himself and Ghostwriter intangible and phased right into his bedroom. After they rematerialized, Danny quickly sat the ghost down upon a chair and wrapped several bands of his ecto-energy around him before warning him, "Don't move a muscle!"

Danny turned intangible again and soared over to his parents' room, who had been stirred awake by the noise at their front door. He quickly explained the situation and grabbed his mother, lifted her off the ground, soared over to the front door, and gently placed her down in front of it. He then flew back up to his sister's room.

Jazz had also been woken up by the commotion and already had her bathrobe on.

"Jazz, I know this sounds crazy and I'll explain everything later, but we _do_ have new neighbors next door and they need a babysitter _right now_!" Danny hurriedly explained.

Before his sister could ask questions or object, the Ghost Boy had scooped her into his arms, turned them both intangible, and soared over to the festively lit front door of their next door neighbor.

In the meantime, Maddie Fenton had joined Hank Patterson in retracing their steps back to the Patterson's home. But by the time they got to the front door, Jazz was there by herself.

"Uh, hello, there," Jazz nervously said while pointing to her own house next door, "I'm Jazz, you're new neighbor. I can babysit!"

Though the young father was confused on how the girl knew he needed a sitter, much less on how she got here before he did, he instantly relaxed and led the Fenton women back into the house.

Now satisfied that it was all he could do at the moment, Danny soared back up to his room.

A very dejected-looking Ghostwriter was still bound to the chair with his head hanging to his chest.

After what had just happened next door, Danny was no longer angry with the ghost. Now, he wanted to know why the ghostwriter had created such a spell. But he couldn't let the ghost know that he was off the hook—yet.

"All right, Ghostwriter," Danny said, faking a growl. "I haven't finished with you yet!"

The bound ghost's head shot up and he trembled a bit. The boy still looked angry and must still think that putting him under a spell wasn't nice! If that got back to the other ghosts…He trembled again…_That_ would definitely mean that he was going to get a lot of grief from the other ghosts for lots of days after the Christmas season…

He jolted when he finally registered what the boy had last said to him. _Finish_! And what he was now thinking sent more dread in him than being ostracized and taunted by all the other ghosts. The boy hadn't finished the story yet! Now, not only didn't the boy think well of him, he was going to do what all authors feared! After all, what author would want his readers to give up on a story? Was the boy even curious on how all of this was going to end?

"Uh, uh," he stammered, fishing for the right words, "Uh, did you like the story so far? I made you the 'hero' again, and I even had the little girl named Rosie call you a Christmas angel, you know!"

Danny scowled for real. Though he had to admit that he liked that part, he wasn't going to let Ghostwriter know. Besides, he didn't like the fact that he had the little girl under a spell.

"That wasn't very nice," Danny dryly said.

Ghostwriter swallowed hard. That was 'strike one' in the 'not nice/not interested' column. Still, he pressed on, "But I did all that because…"

"Wait!" Danny blurted out. He had suddenly realized something. "How come I'm not talking in rhyme like the last time?"

"That would have been better, but to make a long story short, I had to resort to writing prose. Sorry about that. I'm best at poetry and writing plays. I stink at prose," the ghost truthfully replied.

Danny frowned again, but he didn't say anything more about it. Instead, he let his 'eyes' do the talking as he flashed them at the bound ghost.

Ghostwriter hitched in a gasp. _Strike 'two' in the 'not nice/not interested' column._

Still, his ghostly obsession prodded him to try again. But before he could say anything more, Danny interrupted him.

"How did you get out of prison? And if you escaped, then you know you'll have all the other ghosts after you for breaking the truce when you did. They were very mad when you did that."

"Yes, I know," Ghostwriter began, "But that's another long story how I got out of prison on good behavior. And you were right, the other ghosts weren't happy about it and they wanted to punish me more. But then, they decided to make a deal with—"

Danny interrupted him again. "Deal? What deal? Was this cruel joke their idea as well?"

"No, it wasn't exactly a cruel joke, though I do think Skulker got a kick with involving you. In fact, if it wasn't for him, I would be in even more trouble now," Ghostwriter said, now hoping to completely mollify the Ghost Boy. After all, he had failed and he knew what that meant.

Danny's eyes widened. "Wait, Skulker helped you? So, if I was under your spell when I last saw him, why was I able to kick his butt?"

"That was payback. It was _his_ idea to involve you." Ghostwriter said with a slightly evil grin.

Danny's eyes narrowed with irritation and he growled, "I don't think you are in any position to crack jokes, dude!"

Ghostwriter gulped. Suddenly even more upset, he whined, "Oh, what's the use?! I'm doomed anyway, whether it's by you or the other ghosts. But if I'm going to get it good, I'd rather get it from you because it will be over quickly and decisively. So, I deserve it! Go ahead and do your worst to me and for pity's sake, be quick!"

Danny's eyes widened in disbelief and chagrin. He would never actually…do what Ghostwriter suggested! It was enough for him to actually pity the ghost.

"I don't get all of this, Ghostwriter," Danny said with more control in his voice, "Why would you risk doing this so close to the ghosts' Christmas truce? You already broke it once before and if you did it again, you would never be able to go to the annual Christmas party all the ghosts have—and you might have just ended up back at Walker's prison."

"I got out of prison just a few days ago; and now I'm not going to be able to go to the Christmas party this year, either," the older ghost simply yet sadly replied.

Danny paused before he reminded the other, "Well, though you have to admit that you weren't exactly nice, you actually didn't break the truce yet because Christmas is tomorrow, dude."

"For you and every other ghost, it'll be nice tomorrow, but it might as well not be great for me because after the Christmas season, it's going to be just rotten for me," the ghost finally admitted.

"But why?" Danny asked.

Finally, Ghostwriter decided to tell the boy _almost_ everything…

And at the end of it, Danny smirked, "The truce being extended for twelve days after Christmas was a nice touch."

Ghostwriter nodded weakly. Still, he wasn't off the hook yet and he had to take another chance.

"So you see, Danny Phantom," the literary ghost began, "If you don't finish the story and the ghosts find out that you found out what I did to you and that I tricked you—even if you have to admit that some of it was nice, right?"

Danny frowned and Ghostwriter winced, but continued, "Like I was saying, if the ghosts found out that _you_ found out about everything when you weren't supposed to find out my doing anything nice for you, it'll be just like I actually broke the truce again because I would have broken my word after I made the deal. It's bad enough that ghosts break their promises; but it's worse if an author like me breaks his words…But if you finish the story and if you don't tell the other ghosts what happened, I still might be able to go to the party and…get forgiven for breaking the truce.. Uhm, I really did want to do something nice for you…"

"Only because Skulker made you," Danny pointed out.

Ghostwriter smiled weakly and admitted. "Well, okay, you're right. But can we extend the truce to include the day _before_ Christmas, just this once? And you won't tell the other ghosts about what happened, will you?"

Danny paused. He didn't want the ghost to think that he had gotten off of the hook that easily. He dryly said, "I haven't decided about that part yet."

Ghostwriter bit his lower lip, yet dared to ask, "Well, will you at least finish reading the story? I really haven't told you _everything_ because like every good writer, I didn't want to spoil you!"

"Wait a minute," Danny said, suddenly suspicious. "If I've already found out about everything, why should it matter whether I finish the story or not?"

Ghostwriter squelched a gulp. He was too embarrassed to tell the boy the real reason. After all, no one liked an insecure author whose weak ego needed to be constantly stroked—even when he now had to admit that it was true since this was his first completed work of _prose._

With a weak smile, he offered his weak response, "Because it's already been written and there's not much more before the end? Besides, now that the spell has been broken, I can't control anyone, so there is nothing to worry about. And also because of that, there will be no more dialogue."

Danny narrowed one of his eyes, yet didn't reply right away. Could he really trust this ghost after all he had done? But then again, could he let the ghost be taunted unmercilessly by the other ghosts knowing what he did? He decided at his next thought: after all, it was nearly Christmas. He should be nice as well. And even though he and most of the ghosts didn't always get along, he always had fun at their Christmas parties. Maybe he could consider this as a sort of Christmas present to the ghost—even if he really didn't deserve it for putting him, his family, and all those other innocent people under a spell.

He walked over to Ghostwriter and reabsorbed the ecto-bindings, which released the ghost.

"Okay, now what do I do?" the boy asked.

Just as his keyboard grew to its normal size, Ghostwriter smiled. It had rebooted nicely—but then he frowned with a bit of confusion before he smiled slightly. There was something…

"Just open the book and read the rest of the story," the older ghost said with his fingers lightly resting on the keys.

Danny walked over to the book, bent down and scooped it up. He sighed to himself in relief when it didn't glow and the fact that he didn't freeze in place. Without wasting much time, he opened the book and began to read.

**_The Patterson got one of their Christmas presents early: their new baby boy was born a few hours later_ —_on Christmas Eve. Jazz and her mother stayed with the Patterson children most of the day and into the night until Hank got home. After thanking his new neighbors profusely, Jazz and Maddie returned to their own home._**

**_Danny Phantom, being the hero that he was, helped sort out his new neighbor's boxes, putting them into their respective rooms at least as well as single-handedly rearranging the furniture_ —_being extra sure not to disturb the small artificial tree he had placed before his neighbors had move in, of course._**

**_Little Rosie thought her 'Christmas angel' had done all that and her brother, who insisted on being called 'Jim' from then on, thought it was his grandfather who had done it. _**

**_Hank Patterson couldn't explain what happened with the boxes or furniture at all; but then again, there was a lot stranger things that had already had happened that he couldn't explain, either. The one that he was most thankful about was that his son was talking again and seemed to be a normal boy again. Jim had told him that his Grandpa Jim had helped him understand everything. Hank wasn't so sure about that, but never challenged his son on it, either. He just thanked the heavens above that everything was working out while also attributing it to the wonderful blessings that surrounded Christmas._**

**_Katie Patterson finally came home with her new bundle the day after Christmas. All of the doctors had said that the baby was going to be a girl_ —_but obviously, they had been wrong. But since the parents hadn't even talked about a boy's name for the baby, they were slightly at a loss on what to name him. That is, until the former 'Little Jim' suggested calling his new brother, "Matthew', which had been his grandfather's middle name. The whole family instantly agreed, especially when Katie's present was that it was Jim who had __said__ it._**

**_Grandpa Jim went to the Oblivion shortly after he had visited his grandchildren. He still watches over his family in pure joy._**

**_Pete quit his job and started working in a bank. From then on, he was home every day and on time._**

**_Fred's real estate company went bankrupt less than a year later since Pete had been the one who had actually worked. And so, Fred had to move to the house he had first intended to sell the Pattersons in Amity Park._**

**_But the people who were the luckiest in this story were the Fentons. _**

**_Mrs. Fenton was delighted to have new neighbors, especially after they broke the record in staying there in spite of all the explosions that happened in the lab and for the occasional ghost that got knocked out of Fenton Works either because of the Fenton weapons or Danny Phantom. In fact, it was hard for the woman to keep on a straight face whenever she was visiting to exchange cookie recipes with her neighbor whenever Katie reported that all the noise and distractions kept Rosie entertained, never disturbed Matthew, and stirred a detective streak in Jim._**

**_Jazz had a steady babysitting job so that she could buy more than one gift for her family if she wanted to._**

**_Jack was happy to show another young man the ropes, even if Hank had no clue in the end what Jack was showing him anyways._**

**_Finally, there was Danny Fenton. His new neighbors never found out that he really was Danny Phantom, which suited the boy just fine. After all, life was crazy enough without adding that detail._**

_**Still, the ones who got the best Christmas presents were the Fentons, who finally got new neighbors who stayed**_** — **_**and tolerated them…**_

**_The End._**

Danny closed the book. "Not too bad," he mumbled. "But there were some typos."

"So, you really didn't think it was bad? I usually stink with prose," the ghost asked with a mixture of anxiousness and anticipation.

Danny looked at the ghost in disbelief. He blurted out, "Are you telling me that all of this was really about my doing a book report or something?"

"No!" Ghostwriter interjected. "I just…uh, hope you'll be pleased enough, uh, to give me a break."

Danny thought about everything that had happened. No one really got hurt and they had met and helped their new neighbors…

He looked at the ghost. Maybe he was sincere this time. He finally said, "I guess what you did in the end was…kinda nice."

Ghostwriter silently nodded in affirmation. He then said, "So, does that mean you'll not tell the other ghosts about it and I'll be able to see you at the party tomorrow?"

"I guess. But I won't be able to stay that long at the party for obvious reasons," Danny replied.

"I understand….well, see you, then," Ghostwriter said before he typed on some keys.

A small portal opened right in Danny's bedroom.

The boy wasn't amused, but after all, he had promised the ghost to extend the truce earlier than Christmas.

Once the portal was stable, Ghostwriter snapped his fingers. The keyboard shrunk as before and the literary ghost pocketed it once more before he jumped into the portal.

_He didn't even thank me_, Danny thought just as the portal spun to a close and disappeared.

* * *

As promised, Danny Phantom attended the ghosts' annual Christmas party. But, Ghostwriter hadn't come yet.

After several minutes of mingling, the young hybrid purposely steered himself over to Skulker. He just had to find out whether Ghostwriter had been on the level.

Finally, the Ghost Boy got his chance to ask those burning questions.

"So, Skulker, I just found out from Ghostwriter what he did for me for Christmas."

"Yeah, it was my idea," the cyborg ghost boasted.

"Oh, I heard that, too!" Danny dryly said. "And I also heard that if Ghostwriter hadn't agreed to your idea, he would have had a very miserable Christmas thinking about all the miserable things that would happen to him right after the twelfth day of Christmas and for quite some time after that."

Skulker frowned at him in confusion. "What are you talking about, whelp?"

Danny quickly explained everything what Ghostwriter told him.

"Well, the joke's on you, then, whelp, because though it was part of the deal for Ghostwriter to do something nice for you in order for us to, uh, forgive him, we never bound him to some kind of jinx surrounding holidays. There's no such a thing as that!"

"What?" Danny blurted out. Now what was this all about?

Suddenly, he heard laughter surrounding him and the others at the Christmas party. And it sounded like Ghostwriter's laugh!

Before he knew it, Danny's surroundings were again whirling all around him until he was just as sudden back into his bedroom. Ghostwriter was in front of him and grinning and that same black book was at his feet. But this time, he could see that it had a title: _Christmas Presents_.

"I-I don't understand," Danny said with a frown on his face.

"Don't try to," Ghostwriter said. "I fulfilled my end of the bargain. I did something nice for you for Christmas."

"But was all of this a trick, then?" Danny protested. If it wasn't Christmas Day, he would let the ghost have it. "The new neighbors, what you told me —"

"Oh, the neighbors are real and so is everything else that happened. Except the parts you found out were faked. And it's very possible that everything else may happen as you read in the book, but there are no guarantees because the spell was partially-broken."

Danny caught that right away. "What do you mean 'partially-broken'?" he said accusingly.

"When my keyboard re-booted, I could tell right away that the spell, though greatly weakened, was still present in the book."

"Wait!" Danny objected. "Was that just an act about you wanting me to read the story when it didn't matter in the end?

"Uh, no," the ghost admitted. "I really did want you to like the story then. But, when I found out that the book still had some power, I didn't care about that anymore."

"But what about our truce?" Danny asked incredulously.

"Ghosts only have a truce on Christmas…now that I made the other ghosts forget about extending it. But since I could _never_ bear to be nice to you for so long, I manipulated them into returning it back to one single day."

"Hold on! Then that means that you broke the truce again!" the Ghost Boy accusingly said.

"No, I did that to them yesterday after you let me go, so it doesn't count," the older ghost replied.

Danny frowned, still confused by it all. But then an idea hit him. "You did that yesterday to them? But I saw them tonight, so that means that you did break the truce since _I_ was under the spell until just a few minutes ago! That doesn't make any sense! Hey, isn't those some kind of plot holes happening here?"

"Maybe. But like I told you, Danny Phantom, I stink at prose! Besides, I don't want anyone to ever find out that I wrote a sappy story," Ghostwriter said with a grin. "And remember, the truce ends at midnight! After all, I _still_ really can't make myself be completely nice to you or those other ghosts who had it in for me! In the meantime, Merry Christmas!"

With that, the literary ghost promptly disappeared from sight.

Danny sighed in disappointment at first. Though Ghostwriter had still tricked and put a spell on him for most of this whole incident, including just a few minutes ago, the ghost hadn't really done any harm—well, maybe except for returning the Christmas truce to one day instead of the twelve days. And he did kind of arrange for him and his family to get new neighbors. Not only that, but they all started off on the right foot. He shrugged when he realized that he had to let it go because, after all, it was still Christmas. And there was at least an hour of it left. He refused to let the Ghostwriter ruin it for him, especially when the holiday had to do about something more than helping others…

He promptly morphed to his human self and ran downstairs. He smiled. All of his family was still up and sitting comfortably with a cup of hot tea in each of their hands.

"We decided to wait up just to wish you a "Merry Christmas' again," his sister explained with a smile.

His parents smiled as well before Maddie asked, "Was the ghost party good?"

Danny nodded and almost told them about what happened when he saw Ghostwriter. But he decided against it.

"And so, son, did you have a good Christmas this year?" Jack asked.

Danny thought only about the good things that happened. Maybe Ghostwriter was nicer to him than the writer ghost had thought.

Danny smiled and said, "I sure did, Dad."

THE END

* * *

**A/N: Well, I hope you enjoyed this story! How many of you knew where this was going? Heh-heh. I just knew y'all were very clever!**

**Now about the story. After e-talking to sapphireswimming, I did begin to wonder whether or not the Fentons would keep driving neighbors away; and if not, just how the neighbors could tolerate them and all of the concentration of ghosts that must be around Fenton Works. And this is my answer! **

**BTW, my family really does celebrate the twelve days of Christmas. I think by now that **_**our**_** neighbors have accepted having our Christmas lights on until the twelfth day of Christmas, which is January 6****th****. Oh, about that, January 6****th**** is not on a Friday this year; but, heh-heh, that's just another plot hole that Ghostwriter had made.**

**In any case, it never gets old to wish you all the Blessings of Christmas! Thanks for reading and you could give me a little Christmas present: your thoughts. *winks* truephan**


End file.
